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Peg  O'   My    Heart 


BY 

J.  HARTLEY  MANNERS 


"  Oh,  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  Love's  young  dream." 


Copyright.  1913.  (in  Novel  form)  by  Dodd  Mead  and  Company 
Copyright.  1918.  By  J.  Hartley  Manners 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


CAUTION  :  All  persons  are  hereby  warned  that  "  Peg  O'  My  Heart." 
being  fully  protected  under  the  copyright  laws  of  the  United  States, 
is  subject  to  royalty,  and  any  one  presenting  the  play  without  the 
consent  of  the  owner  or  his  authorized  agents  will  be  liable  to  the 
penalties  by  law  provided.  Applications  for  the  amateur  acting 
rights  must  be  made  to  Samuel  French.  28-30  West  38th  St..  New 
York.  Applications  for  the  professional  acting  rights  must  be  made 
to  J.  Hartley  Manners,  Lotos  Club.  New  York. 


New  York 
SAMUEL  FREN'JH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30  West  38th  STREET 


LoifDOW 

SAMITL  ITFNCH,  Ltd. 

26   Southampton  Street 

STRAND 


Eepecial  notice  should  be  taken  that  the  possesBio* 
•f  this  book  without  a  valid  contract  for  production 
first  having  been  obtained  from  J.  Hartley  Manners,  or 
Samuel  French,  the  publisher,  confers  no  right  or  license 
to  professionals  or  amateurs  to  produce  the  play  publicly 
or  in  private  for  gain  or  charity. 

In  its  present  form  this  play  is  dedicated  to  the 
reading  public  only,  and  no  performance  of  it  may  be 
given,  except  by  special  arrangement  with  J.  Hartley 
Manners,  or  Samuel  French. 

SECTION  28.— That  any  person  who  wilfully  or  for 
profit  shall  infringe  any  copyright  secured  by  this  act, 
or  who  shall  knowingly  and  wilfully  aid  or  abet  such 
infringement,  shall  be  deemed  guilty  of  a  misdemeanor, 
and  upon  conviction  thereof  shall  be  punished  by  im- 
prisonment for  not  exceeding  one  year,  or  by  a  fine  of 
»ot  less  than  one  hundred  dollars  nor  more  than  on« 
thousand  dollars,  or  both,  in  the  discretion  of  the  court. 
Act  of  March  4,  1909. 


To 
LAURIE  " 


■' in  that  which  no  waters  can  quench. 

No  time  forget,  nor  distance  wear  away. 


PUBLISHER'S  NOTE 


"  Pe[;  O'  My  Heart "  was  first  produced  in  Los 
Angeles,  California,  on  May  26th,  191 2,  with 
Laurette  Taylor  as  "  Peg  ",  where  it  ran  for  toi 
performances.  Subsequently  produced  at  the  Cort 
Theater,  New  York  City,  on  December  20th,  1912, 
with  Laurette  Taylor,  it  ran  there  until  May  30th, 
1914,  making  an  unbroken  run  of  604  performances. 
Miss  Taylor  opened  her  London  engagement  on 
Saturday',  October  loth,  191 4,  at  the  Comedy 
Theater,  from  which  theater  she  later  transferred 
the  Comedy  to  the  Globe  Theater,  and  appeared 
in  it  there  until  October  i8th,  191 5.  In  all,  the  part 
of  "  Peg  "  was  played  by  Miss  Taylor  in  the  United 
States  and  England  for  1,099  performances. 

The  comedy  has  been  performed  in  the  United 
States  and  in  Canada  5,987  times,  eight  companies 
at  one  time  touring  it  during  the  season  of  1914.- 
1915;  1,001  times  in  London,  during  which  run  it 
was  played  at  the  Comedy,  Globe,  Apollo  and  St. 
James's  Theaters;  2,475  times  in  the  English 
provinces ;  457  times  in  Australia  and  New  Zealand ; 
and  191  times  in  South  Africa.  In  Australia  it  holds 
the  record  run  of  any  comedy,  having  been  played 
at  the  Palace  Theater,  Sydney,  for  fourteen  con- 
secutive weeks,  totalling  112  performances. 

It  has  also  been  played  in  India  and  the  Far  East, 
and  in  Holland,  and  arrangements  have  been  made 
for  its  translation  and  adaptation  into  French, 
Italian  and  Spanish. 

The  total  number  of  performances  recorded  to 
date  in  all  parts  of  the  world  is  10,233. 

April  15th,  1918. 


The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  programme  of  the  first 
performance  of  "PEG  O'  MY  HEART"  at  the  Cort 
Theater,  New  York  City. 


FRIDAY,  DECEMBER  20th,  1912. 
LAURETTE  TAYLOR 

IN  A  COMEDY  OF  YOUTH   IN  THREE  ACTS 
ENTITLED 

PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

By  J.  Hartley  Manners 

(Produced    under    the    personal    direction    of    the 
author) 

"  Oh,  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  Love's  young  dream  ". 

CHARACTERS 

(In  the  order  of  their  first  appearance) 

Mrs.  Chichester Miss  Emilie  Melville 

Footman Mr.  Peter  Bassctt 

Ethel,  Mrs.  Chichester's  daughter,  Miss  Christine 

Norinan 
Alaric,  Mrs.  Chichester's  son,  Mr.  Hassard  Short 

Christian  Brent Mr.  Reginald  Mason 

Peg Miss  Laurctte  Taylor 

Montgomery    Hawkes,    solicitor,    Mr.    Clarence 

Handy  side 

Maid Miss  Ruth  Gartland 

Jerry Mr.  H.  Reeves-Smith 

7 


THE  SCENES  OF  THE  COMEDY 


Act      I.  The  Coming  of  Peg. 
Act    H.  The  Rebellion  of  Peg. 
Act  hi.  Peg  O'  My  Heart. 

The  entire  action  of  the  comedy  passes  in  the 
living-room  of  Regal  Villa,  Mrs.  Chichester's  house 
in  Scarborough,  England,  in  early  summer. 

One  month  elapses  between  Acts  I  and  H,  and  a 
single  night  passes  between  Acts  H  and  HI. 

NOTE:     The   curtain   will   descend   in   Act   H   to 
denote  the  passing  of  a  few  hours. 

8 


The  following'  is  a  copy  of  the  proonramme  of  the  first 
performance  of"  "  PEG  O'  MY  HEART"  at  the  Comedy 
Theatre,  London. 


SATURDAY,  OCTOBER  10th,  1914. 
LAURETTE  TAYLOR 

IN  A  COMEDY  OF  YOUTH  IN  THREE  ACTS 
ENTITLED 

PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

By  J.  Hartley  Manners 

(Produced    under    the    personal    direction    of    the 
author) 

"  Oh,  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  Love's  young  dream  ". 

"  Jerry  " Mr.  A.  E.  Matthews 

Alaric  Chichester Mr.  Percy  Ames 

Montgomery  Hawkes Mr.  J.  H.  Barnes 

Christian  Brent Mr.  Eille  Norzvood 

Jarvis Mr.  Albert  Sims 

Mrs.  Chichester Miss  Helen  Ferrers 

Ethel  Chichester.  .  .Mwj  Violet  Kemhle  Cooper 

Bennett Miss  Bettina  Forest 

*'  Peg  " Miss  Laurette  Taylor 


THE  SCENES  OF  THE  COMEDY 

Act      I.  The  Coming  of  Peg. 
Act    H.  The  Rebellion  of  Peg. 
Act  hi.  Peg  O'  My  Heart. 

The  entire  action  of  the  comedy  passes  at  Regal 
Villa,  Mrs.  Chichester's  house  in  Scarborough  in 
early  summer. 

One  month  elapses  between  Acts  I  and  H. 

A  single  night  passes  between  Acts  H  and  HI. 

NOTE:    The  curtain  will  be  lowered  in  Act  II  for 
one  minutes  to  denote  the  lapse  of  a  few  hours. 

10 


LORD  CHAMBERLAIN'S  OFFICE, 

St.  James's  Palace,  S.  W. 

Sept.  2ist,  1914. 

Sir: 

In  reply  to  your  letter  of  the  19th,  instant.  I  am 
desired  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain  to  inform  you  that 
the  play  ^"  Peg  O'  My  Heart "  was  licensed  to  the 
Manager  of  the  St.  James's  Theatre  on  June  5th, 
1912. 

Yours  faithfully, 
H.  TRENDELL, 

For  Assistant  Comptroller. 

J.  HARTLEY  MANNERS,  ESQ. 
II 


THE  CHARACTERS  IN  THE  COMEDY 

Mrs.  Chichester 

Alaric Her  son 

Ethel Her  daughter 

Montgomery  Hawkes Solicitor 

Christian  Brent 
Footman   (Jarvis) 
I^.Iaid  (Bennett) 
"  Jerry  " 

and 
"  Peg  " 


PEG  O'   MY  HEART 


ACT  I 

"THE  COMING  OF  PEG" 

Scene:  The  action  of  the  entire  comedy  passes  in 
a  living-room  in  an  old  Tudor  house  in  Scar- 
borough, England.  It  is  a  solid,  massive  room 
on  the  ground  level  opening  into  a  garden. 
IVindozvs  c,  and  r.  Through  the  zuindows  c. 
can  be  seen  pathways  winding  away  between 
lines  of  old,  tall  trees  to  the  sea,  and  through  the 
window  R.  can  be  seen  an  old  garden  zvith 
fiozvers  in  full  bloom.  Jasmine  and  creepers 
climb  up  the  porch. 

The  room  is  furnished  for  the  most  part  zvith 
solid  old  furniture;  an  oak  fable  c  on  zvhich 
are  books,  papers,  magazines,  methodically  ar- 
ranged; further  dozvn  r.  an  arm-chair;  down 
L.  against  zvall  a  zvriting-desk;  a  grand  piano 
R.  on  zvhich  is  a  mass  of  music,  a  marble 
statuette  of  Cupid,  several  framed  photos,  vases 
of  fiozvers,  etc.  On  the  zvalls  ate  some  excel- 
lent pictures  framed  in  oak.  Lounges,  com- 
fortable arm-chairs,  etc.,  are  distributed  about 
the  room..  The  whole  effect  is  of  ease,  comfort, 
and  good  taste. 

A  fJgJit  of  fzvelve  deep  stairs  runs  up  a;:.! 
off  at  the  back  l.    A  door  l. 

The  curtain  rises  on  an  empty  stage. 
13 


14  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Mrs.  Chichester,  a  zuoman  of  fifty,  hurries 
in  tJiroiigh  alcove  R.  hack. 

Jarvis  enters  l.  with  letters  on  salver. 

Mrs.  Chichester  comes  down  to  table  c, 
and  Jarvis  meets  her.  She  takes  letters  and 
reads,  then  Jarvis  goes  tip  back,  pulls  open  the 
curtains,  and  then  goes  down  l.  to  door. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Wait,  Jarvis.  My  son !  I\Iiss 
Ethel!  At  once,  I  must  see  them  at  once.  (Mrs. 
Chichester  finishes  reading  the  letter,  bursts  into 
tears,  sinks  down  shivering  and  crying  on  the  arm- 
chair r.  c.) 

(Ethel  enters  l.  She  has  a  copy  of  "  The  Morning 
Post "  folded  back  at  the  General  Neivs  Items. 
SJie  goes  across  to  her  mother.  Footman 
e.vit  L.) 

Ethel.    Mother!    Have  you  seen  this? 
Mrs.  Chichester.    Oh,  my  dear  Ethel ! 

(Enter  Alaric  r.  u.  e.     Ethel  goes  to  r.  of  her 
^mother.) 

Alaric  {Moves  down  c.  briskly  and  energetically 
into  c,  throwing  his  hat  info  window-scat  at  back) 
Hallo,  Mater!    Hallo,  Ethel ! 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {Between  gasps)  Alaric! 
My  poor  boy ! 

Alaric.     (c.)    What's  the  matter?    What's  up? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {Seated  r.  c.)  We're— 
{Sob)     We're— {Sob)  ruined!     {Cries  bitterly) 

Alaric.  {At  r.  c,  by  his  mother)  Ruined?  Go 
on  !    Are  we,  really  ? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {Looking  at  letter  and 
staunching  her  tears)  Our  bank  has  failed.  Every 
penny  your  poor  father  left  me  was  in  it.  We're 
bcg«;ars. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  15 

Alaric.  Oh,  tush !  Tush  and  nonsense !  It  can't 
be  true. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     (Hands  him  letter)     Read. 

Alaric.     (To  Ethel)     Eh! 

Ethel.  (Crossing  to  Alaric,  hands  him  "The 
Morning  Post "  7vith  thumb  on  paragraph,  and  then 
sits  on  high  chair  r.)     Yes,  look. 

Alaric.  (c,  looks  at  paper  and  reads)  "  Failure 
of  Gifford's  Bank  ".  (Looks  at  letter  and  reads) 
"  Gifford's  Bank  suspended  business  yesterday ". 
(Looks  at  nezvspaper)  *'  Gifford's  Bank  has  closed 
its  doors."  Eh?  (Looks  blankly  at  Mrs.  Chiches- 
ter and  Ethel) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Seated  r.  c.)  Yes.  We're 
ruined. 

Ethel.    Beggars ' 

Alaric.  (c.)  Now  that's  v/hat  I  call  a  down- 
right, rotten,  black-guardly  shame.  Closed  its  doors, 
indeed!  Why  should  it  close  its  doors?  That's 
what  I  want  to  know.  Why — should — it?  What 
right  have  banks  to  fail?  Why  isn't  there  a  law 
against  it?  (Looking  from  letter  and  paper,  at 
which  he  glances  alternately)  They  should  be  made 
to  open  their  doors — and  keep  'em  open.  That's 
what  we  give  'em  our  money  for — so  that  we  can 
take  it  out  when  we  want  to. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Everything  gone  !  Ruined  ! 
And  at  my  age ! 

Alaric.  (Goes  to  table  and  puts  down  letter  and 
paper)  A  nice  kettle  of  fish !  That's  all  I  can  say. 
A  nice  kettle  of  lish,  all  a-boiling.     Eh,  Ethel? 

Ethel.     (Quite  unmoved)     Pity! 

(Mrs.  Chichester  moans.) 

Alaric.  (Crosses  to  Mrs.  Chichester)  Don't 
worry,  Mater.  (Buttons  his  coat  determinedly) 
ril  go  down  and  tell  'em  just  what  I  think  of  'em. 


1 6  PEG  O'  IMY  HEART 

They  can't  play  the  fool  \vith  nic.  Don't  you  care, 
Alater.  You've  got  a  son,  thank  God.  And  one 
no  bank  can  take  liberties  with.  What  we  put  in 
there  we've  got  to  have  out.  That's  all  I  can  say. 
We've  simply — got — to — have — it — out.  I've  said 
it.     (Crosses  into  l.  c.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.    It's  bankrupt! 

Ethel,    Failed ! 

Mrs.  Chichester.  We're  beggars.  I  must  live 
on  charity  the  rest  of  my  life.  The  guest  of  rela- 
tions I've  always  hated  the  sight  of,  and  who've  al- 
ways hated  me.     Oh!     (Weeps) 

Alaric.  (Crosses  to  r.  c.  to  his  mother,  comforts 
her,  and  speaks  to  Ethel)  Don't  you  think  we'll 
get  anything? 

Ethel.    (Shakes  her  head)     Nothing. 
aJU^  E?»EL.      (Unhottoning  his  coat,  goes  limp)      I 
always    thought    bank    directors    were    a    lot    of 
blighters.     Good  Lord,  what  a  mess! 

(Mrs.  Chichester  looks  up  at  him.) 

Alaric.    What's  to  become  of  Ethel? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Lookiyig  up  at  Al.\ric) 
Whoever  shelters  me  must  take  Ethel  as  well. 

Alaric.  Shocking  tough,  old  girl.  (Looking 
across  at  Ethel) 

Ethel.     (Shakes  her  head  determinedly)     No. 

AL.VRIC.     No?    What? 

Ethel.    Charity. 

Alaric  (Shi-Jers)  Cold-blooded  word.  What 
will  you  do? 

Ethel.     Work. 

Alaric.    What  at? 

Ethel.    Teach. 

Alaric.  (r.  c.)  Teach!  Who  in  the  wide  world 
can  you  teach? 

Ethel.    Children. 

Alaric.     Oh,  cornel     That's  rich!     Eh,  Mater? 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  17 

Ethel  teachin'  grubby  little  children  their  A.  B.  C's. 
Tiish ! 

Ethel.     .Just. 

Alaric.    a  Chichester  teach ! 

Ethel.  (With  imperative  gesture)  Settlec"! ! 
(Rises  up  R.  to  piano) 

Alaric.  {Determinedly  buttoning  up  his  coat 
again)  Very  well  then/  I'll  work  too.  (Faces 
front) 

]^.Trs.  Chichester.    Oh,  Alaric! 

Alaric.  I'll  put  my  hand  to  the  plough.  (With 
increased  energy)  The  more  I  think  of  it  the 
keener  I  am  to  begin.  From  to-day  I'll  be  a  workin' 
man. 

Ethel.  (By  piano  r.,  laughs  mirthlessly  and 
superciliously)     Ha! 

Alaric.  (Turning  quicklv  to  her)  And  may  I 
ask  why  that  "Ha"?  (To" Mrs.  Chichester  c.) 
There  is  nothing  I  couldn't  do  if  I  was  really  put  to 
it,  not  a  single  thing. 

InIrs.  Chichester.  (Proudly)  I  know  thit, 
dear.     But  it's  dreadful  to  think  of  you  working. 

Alaric.  Not  at  all.  I'm  just  tingling  all  over  at 
the  thought  of  it.  Only  reason  I  haven't  so  far  is 
because  I  never  had  to.  But  now  that  I  have,  I'll 
just  buckle  on  my  armor,  so  to  speak,  and  astonish 
you  all.     (Leans  on  table  c.) 

Ethel,     (r.,  above  piano,  laughs  again)     Ha! 

Alaric.  Please  don't  laugh  in  that  cheerless  way, 
Ethel.  (Shivers)  It  goes  all  down  my  spine. 
Jerry's  always  telling  me  I  ought  to  do  something; 
that  the  world  is  for  the  workfer,  and  all  that. 
Now  I'm  goin'  to  show  him.  (Suddenly)  I  say, 
what's  to-day?  (Looks  at  date  of  newspaper) 
The  first?  June  the  first.  Jerry's  comin'  to-day. 
All  his  family.  They've  taken  "  Noel's  Folly  "  on 
the  hill.  He's  sure  to  look  in  here.  (Jarvis  enters 
L.  zi'ith  card  on  salver,  and  crosses  l.  c.)     Couldn't 


1 8  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

be  better.  I'll  put  it  to  him  as  man  to  man.  He's 
the  cove  to  turn  to  in  a  case  like  this.  I'll — What 
is  it?  {To  Jarvis,  who  holds  out  salver  to  him, 
picks  up  card  and  reads  it)     Chris  Brent! 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Rising,  goes  to  Ethel)  Oh, 
I  can't  see  anyone. 

Alaric.  Nor  I.  I'm  all  strung  up.  {To  Jarvis) 
Tell  Mr.  Brent  we're  out.  {Puts  card  back  on 
salver) 

Ethel.     I'll  see  Mr.  Brent  here. 

{Exit  Jarvis  l.) 

[Mrs.  Chichester.  Thank  you,  dear.  Aly  head's 
throbbing.  I'll  go  to.  my  rooni.  {Goes  to  stairs  l. 
round  hack  of  table) 

Alaric.  {FoUozjing  IsIrs.  Chichester  to  stairs, 
passing  up  L.,  gets  l.  of  her)  All  right,  !\Iater. 
And  don't  v/orry.  Leave  everything  to  me.  I'll 
thrash  the  v.-liole  thing  out — absolutely  thrash  it 
out. 

J^.Irs.  Chichester.  (0:i  stairs,  to  Ethel)  Come 
to  rnc  when  he  gees,  dear. 

Ethel.    Yes,  Mother. 

(AIrs.    Chichester   passes   up    the   stairs   out   of 
sight.) 

Alaric.  {Crossing  to  window  up  back,  picks  up 
hat)     Awful  business,  Ethel. 

Ethel.  (Has  come  to  front  of  table)  Pretty 
bad. 

Al./vric.  Really  goin'  to  teach?  (Dozim  r.  of 
table  to  R.  c.) 

Ethel,     (c.)     Yes. 

Alaric.  Right.  I'll  find  something,  too.  We'll 
pull  through  somehow 

Ethel.     {Indicating  door  l.)     Mr.  Brent's  com- 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  19 

Alaric.  Jolly  good  of  you  to  let  him  bore  you. 
(Going  to  alcove  r.)  Hate  the  sight  of  the  beggar 
mvself.  Always  looks  like  the  first  conspirator  at 
the  play.  (The  door  l.  opens.  Alaric  hurries  out 
through  the  dcove  r.  hack) 

(Jarvis  shows  in  Christian  Brent,  a  dark,  eager, 
pleasure-loving  looking  young  man  of  tzuenty- 
five.  Ethel,  for  the  first  time,  shows  some 
animation  as  he  enters  and  shakes  her  hand. 
Jarvis  exit  l.) 

Brent.  Well,  how  are  you?  (They  shake 
hands) 

Ethel,  (c.)  Fair.  (Drazi's  her  hand  azuay, 
which  he  has  kept) 

Brent,     (l.  c.)     Your  mother? 

Ethel.    Lying  down-. 

Brent.    Alaric? 

Ethel.    Out  there. 

Brent.  (Glances  quickly  at  the  garden)  Then 
we've  a  moment  or  two  alone? 

Ethel.     I  suppose  so. 

Brent.  Oh,  Ethel.  (He  goes  to  embrace  her, 
she  drazus  back  and  crosses  to  couch  l.  and  sits. 
He  follozvs  her  to  l.  c.)     Glad  to  see  me? 

EtheL;    Why  not? 

Brent.  (He  sits  beside  her,  r.  of  Jier)  I  am  to 
see  you — more  than  glad. 

Ethel.    Wliy? 

Brent.     I'm  at  the  cross-roads. 

Eteiel.     Really? 

Brent.    It  came  last  night. 

Ethel.    Oh ! 

Brent.    Tliis  is  the  end  between  me  and  my  wife. 

Ethel.    Is  it? 

Brent.  Yes.  The  end.  It's  been  wretched. 
We've  not  one  thought  in  common.    There's  not  a 


20  .         PEG  O'  j\IY  HEART 

word  of  mine— not  an  action— that  she  doesn't  mis- 
understand. 

Ethf.l.     How  borin.c;! 

Brent.    She'd  see  harm  even  in  this. 

Ethel.    Why? 

Brent.     She'd  think  I  was  here  to — to 

Ethel.    What? 

Brent.     ]\Iake  love  to  you. 

Ethel.    Well.    Aren't  vou? 

Brent.     Ethel! 

Ethel.    Don't  you — always? 

Brent.    How  can  you  say  that? 

Ethel.    Don't  you? 

Brent.  (On  couch)  Has  it  seemed  like  that  to 
you^ 

Ethel.  Yes — by  insinuation.  Never  straight- 
forwardly. 

Brent.    Has  it  offended  you? 

Ethel.    Ah!    Then  you  admit  it? 

Brent.  (Moves  a  Utile  nearer)  Oh,  I  wish  i  had 
the  right  to — (Stops) 

Ethel.    Yes? 

Brent.     Make  love  to  you  straightforwardly. 

Ethel.    Then  vou  wouldn't  do  it. 

Brent.    Ethel !' 

Ethel.  It's  only  because  you  hare  n't  the  right 
that  you  do  it — by  suggestion. 

Brent.  (Starts  back  in  dis(/ust)  Whv  do  vou 
think  that? 

Ethel.    You  don't  deny  it. 

Brent.  What  a  contemptible  opinion  you  must 
have  of  me.     (Rises,  crosses  up  l.  of  table) 

Ethel.    Then  we're  quits,  aren't  we? 

Brent,     (l.  c.)     How?     (Turns  to  her) 

Ethel.  You  have  a  contemptible  opinion  of 
me. 

Brent.    Why?     (Comes  do^.'u  a  little) 

Ethel.    You  must  have.    Evcrv  married  man  has 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  21 

a  contemptible  opinion  of  the  woman  he  covertly 
makes  love  to.    If  he  hadn't  he  couldn't  do  it. 

Brext.     (l.  c.)     I  don't  follow  you. 

Ethel.  Haven't  you  had  time  to  think  of  an 
answer?  .   . 

Brent.    I  don't  know  what  you  re  drivmg  at. 
Ethel.    (Seniles)    No?    I  think  you  do.    (Brent 
jiiakes  movement  azvay.     Pause)     What  happened 
last  night? 

Brent.  Why,  she — {Moves  towards  her,  then 
stops)    No.    I'd  sound  like  a  cad,  blaming  a  woman. 

Ethel.    Never  mind  how  it  sounds,  tell  it. 

Brent.  {Com.es  to  couch,  knee  on  it,  over  her) 
The  m.ore  I  look  at  you  and  listen  to  you  the  more 
I  realize  I  should  never  have  married. 

Ethel.    Oh!    Why  did  you? 

Brent.  {Sits  beside  her,  back  to  the  audience) 
Why?  Have  you  ever  seen  a  young  hare,  fresh 
from  its  kind,  run  headlong  into  a  snare?  Have 
you  ever  seen  a  young  m.an  straight  from  college 
dash  into  a  net?  I  did.  I  wasn't  trap-wise.  Good 
God,  what  nurslings  we  are  when  we  first  feel  our 
feet!  We're  like  children  just  loose  from  the  lead- 
ing-strings. Anything  that  glitters  catches  us. 
Every  trap  that  is  set  for  our  unwary  feet  we  drop 
into.  /  did.  Dropped  in.  Caught  hand  and  foot, 
mind  and  soul. 

Ethel.    Soul  ? 

Brent.    Yes. 

Ethel.    Don't  you  mean  body? 

Brent.    Well,  body,  mind,  and  soul. 

Ethel.    Ah!    Body  anyway. 

Brent.  And  for  what  ?  Love  ?  Companionship  ! 
That's  what  we  build  on  in  marriage.  And  what 
did  I  realize  ?  Hate  and  wrangling.  Then  came  the 
baby. 

Ethel.    Ah!     {She  turns  azvay) 

Brent.      One    would   think   that   would    change 


22  TEG  O'  MY  HEART 

thinc^s.  But,  no.  Neither  of  us  wantxd  her — 
neither  of  us  loved  her.  {Look  from  Ethel) 
And  th^n— (Pause)  I  shouldn't  tell  you  this.  It's 
horrible.  I  sec  it  in  your  face.  (Pause)  What  are 
you  thinking? 

Ethel.     I'm  sorry. 

Brent.    For  me? 

Ethel.     For  your  wife. 

Brent.    My  wife? 

Ethel.  Yes.  Aren't  you?  (He  turns  az^^ay. 
Pause)     No?     (Pause)     Just  sorry  for  yourself? 

Brent.     You  think  me  purely  selfish? 

Ethel.  Naturally.  /  am.  (Pause.  Brent  turns 
OiVay  zvith  a  sulky  movement)  Don't  sulk.  Let's 
be  truthful — sometimes. 

Brent.  (Suddenly,  facing  Iter)  We  quarrelled 
last  night — about  you. 

Ethel.     Really? 

Brent.  Gossip  has  linked  us  together.  She 
heard  it.     Put  the  worst  construction  on  it. 

liTHEL.     Well?     What  did  you  do? 

Brent.  (Rises  and  zvalks  round  table)  I  left 
the  house  and  walked  the  streets — hours.  I  looked 
my  whole  life  back  as  if  it  were  some  stranger's. 
I  tell  you,  we  ought  to  be  taught.  W^e  ought  to  be 
taught  wliat  marriage  means.  (Comes  dozen  r.) 
Just  as  we  are  taught  not  to  steal  or  lie  or  sin.  In 
marriage,  when  we  are  ill-mated,  we  do  all  tiiree. 
We  steal  affection  from  someone  else,  we  lie  in  our 
lives,  we  sin  in  our  relationship.     (Turning  r.) 

Eth^l.  (Rises  and  crosses  to  l.  of  table)  Do 
you  mean  that  you're  a  sinner,  a  thief,  and  a  liar? 

Brent.    Ethel ! 

Ethel.  (Sits  l.  of  table)  Oh.  take  some  of  the 
blame.  Don't  put  it  all  on  the  woman.  (He  tun^s 
azuay)     What  do  you  intend  to  do? 

Brent.  (Front  of  table)  Separate.  The  on!y 
thing.    You  don't  doctor  a  poisoned  limb  when  your 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  23 

life  is  at  stake.  You  cut  it  off.  When  tzvo  lives 
generate  poison,  face  it  as  a  surgeon  would. 
Amputate. 

Ethel.    And  after  the  operation  ?    What  then  ? 

Brent.  (Leaning  over  front  of  table)  That  is 
why  I'm  here — facing  you. 

Ethel.  But  if  we  generate  poison — what  will 
you  do?    Amputate  me? 

Brent.    You  are  dilierent  from  all  Ocher  women. 

Ethel.  Didn't  you  tell  your  wife  that  when  you 
asked  her  to  marry  you? 

Brent.  (Turns  away)  Don't  say  those  things. 
They  hurt.     (Going  around  r.  of  table) 

Ethel.  I'm  afraid,  Chris,  I'm  too  frank.  Aren't 
I? 

Brent.  (Leaning  over,  at  hack  of  table)  You 
stand  alone.  You  seem  to  look  into  the  hearts  of 
people  and  know  why  and  how  they  beat. 

Ethel.  (Meaningly)  Do  I?  It's  an  awkward 
faculty  sometimes,  isn't  it? 

Brent.  How  marvellously  different  two  women 
can  be — you  and  my  wife.     (Again  back  of  tabic) 

Ethel.  We're  not  really  very  different.  Only 
some  natures  like  change.  Youirs  does.  And  the 
new  has  all  the  virtues.  I  mightn't  last  as  long  as 
your  wife  did. 

Brent.  (Standing  close  to  her,  over  her)  Don't 
say  that.    We  have  a  common  bond — understanding. 

Ethel.     Think  so? 

Brent.     I  understand  you. 

Ethel.    I  wonder. 

Brent.    You  do  me. 

Ethel.    That's  just  it. 

Brent.  I  tell  you  I'm  at  the  cross-roads.  The 
finger-post  poiitts  the  way  to  me  distinctly.  (Pause. 
Sits  in  chair  back  of  table,  close  to  her)  Would 
you  risk  it? 

Ethel.     (Turning  on  him)     What? 


24  PEG  O'  :\IY  HEART 

Brext.  I'll  hide  nothing.  I'll  put  it  all  before 
you.  The  snubs  of  your  friends,  life  in  some  little 
Continental  village,  dreading  the  passers-through, 
anrl  then —    No.     It  v/ouldn't  be  fair  to  you. 

Etiicl.  (Slozi'Iy)  No.  I  don't  think  it  wouM. 
However,  I'll  think  it  over  and  let  you  know. 

Brext.  (To  Ethel,  eagerly)  When  she  sets  me 
free  we  could — we  could — (Stops) 

Ethel.  It  is  a  difficult  little  word  at  times,  isn't 
it? 

Brext.     Would  you  marry  me? 

Ethel.  I  never  cross  my  bridges  till  I  reach  them, 
and  we're  such  a  long  way  from  that  one,  aren't  we  ? 

Brext.  (Rises)  Ethel!  (She  rises.  He  puts 
kis  hand  on  hers,  and  she  moves  azvay  dozun  l.  c.  in 
front  of  bench)  Then  I'm  to  wait?  (Comes  dozvn 
level  iviih  her) 

Ethel.  Yes,  do.  When  the  tim.e  comes  to  accept 
the  charity  of  relations  or  do  something  useful  for 
tuppence  a  week,  who  knows?  When  a  woman  has 
to  choose  between  charity  and  labor — who  knows? 

Brext.     Charity?     Labor? 

Ethel.  (Moves  to  bciicJi  and  sits)  A  tiresome 
bank  has  failed  with  all  our  sixpences  locked  up  in 
it.     Isn't  it  stupid? 

Brext.  (FoUozvs  her  to  couch)  Is  all  your 
money  gone? 

Ethel.     Everything. 

Brext.    Good  God! 

Ethel.  IMamma  knows  as  little  about  business 
as  she  does  about  me.  Until  this  morning  she  has 
always  had  a  rooted  belief  in  her  bank  and  her 
daughter.  If  I  bolt  with  you  her  last  cherished 
illusion  will  be  destroyed. 

Brent,     (r.  of  conch)    Let  me  help  you. 

Ethel.    How?    Lend  us  monev? 

Brent.  I'll  do  that  if— (Ethel  looks  at  him) 
I  beg  your  pardon. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  25 

Ethel.  (Looking  dozen)  So  you  see  we're  both, 
in  a  way,  at  the  cross-roads. 

Brent.  (Seising  her  hand)  Let  me  take  you 
awav  out  of  it  all. 

Ethel.  (Slozvh)  No.  Not  just  now.  (Brent 
turn::  awav  to  table  c.)  I'm  not  in  a  bolting  mood 
to-day.  (She  turns  to  him  saying)  Chris,  some 
timc'perhaps  in  the  dead  of  night,  something  will 
snap  in  me— the  slack,  selfish,  luxurious  me  that 
hates  to  be  roused  into  action — and  the  lon-^ing  for 
adventure  will  com.e.  Then  I'll  send  for  you. 
(Rises) 

Brent.     And  you'll  go  with  me? 

Ethel.  (Stre'tching  lazily)  I  suppose  so.  (He 
goes  to  embrace  her,  but  she  keeps  him  off.  Look- 
ing at  him  through  half -closed  eyes)  Then  Heaven 
help  you. 

Brent.     I  want  you — I  need  you. 

Ethel.  Until  the  time  comes  for  amputation? 
(He  turns  azvay)  You  see  I  don't  want  you  to  have 
illusions  about  me.  I've  none  about  you.  Let  us 
begin  fair,  anyway.  It  will  be  much  easier  when  the 
end  comes.     (Moz'es  azcay  dozvn  l.) 

Brent.  (Going  quickly  to  her)  But  there'll  be 
no  end.  I  love  you — love  you  with  every  breath  in 
my  body,  every  thought  in  my  mind,  every  throb  of 
(Embraces  her)    my  nerves. 

(Dozvn  the  path  c.  comes  a  strange  little  figure — 
a  beautiful  girl  of  eighteen,  shabbily  but  cleanly 
dressed  in  a  simple  print  dress,  a  zvide-brimmcd 
cheap  strazv  hat  from  under  zvhich  hangs  a 
profusion  of  short,  natural  curls  of  qlcaming 
reddish  hair.  She  is  carrying  a  bag  and  a  paper 
parcel  somezvhat  the  zvorse  for  zvear  under  one 
arm,  and  under  the  other  arm  is  a  shaggy,  un- 
kempt, and  altogether  disgraceful  looking  Irish 
terrier.    She  zvalks  c:iieth:  into  the  room,  comes 


26  PEG  O'  jNIY  heart 

doi^ni  R.  c,  sees  Brext  and  Ethel  in  the  em- 
brace, turns  away  and  sits  in  cJiair  r.  of  table 
with  her  back  to  them.) 

Ethel.  Please  don't.  It's  so  hot  this  mornins:. 
(Sees  Peg  over  Brent's  r.  shoulder,  straightens  up 
with  a  quick  movement,  and  swings  Brent  round. 
They  look  in  horrified  ama-zemcnt  at  the  strange 
little  figure.  Ethel  goes  to  her)  How  long  have 
you  been  here?     (Crosses  to  c.  of  table) 

Peg.  (r.  of  table,  with  a  delightfully  slight  Irish 
brogue,  looking  up  innocently  in  Ethel's  eyes)  I 
just  came  in. 

Ethel.    What  do  you  want  ? 

Peg.  I  don't  want  anything.  I  was  told  I  must 
wait  at  this  place. 

Ethel.    Who  told  you? 

Peg.     a  gentleman. 

Ethel.    What  gentleman? 

Peg.  Just  a  gentleman.  He  told  me  to  wait — at 
the  place  that  is  written  down  on  the  card.  (Hands 
her  a  soiled  visiting  card.  Brent  is  l.  staring  at 
Peg) 

Ethel.  (In  front  of  table,  takinrj  card,  reads) 
"Mrs.  Chichester,  Regal  Villa".  \Vhat  do  you 
want  with  Mrs.  Chichester? 

Peg.  I  don't  want  anything.  I  was  told  I  must 
wait  here.     (Taking  card  back) 

Ethel.    Who  are  you? 

Peg.  I  wasn't  to  say  anything.  I  was  only  to 
wait. 

(Ethel  turns  to  Brent.     Brent  l.  c.  is  looking 
admiringly  at  the  little  stranger.) 

Ethel.  (Pauses  and  looks  at  Brent  then  turns 
again  to  Peg)  You  say  you've  only  been  here  a 
minute  ? 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  27 

Peg.    Just  a  minute. 

Ethel.    Were  we  talking  when  you  came  in  ? 

Peg.    Ye  were. 

Ethel.    Did  you  hear  what  we  said? 

Peg.  Yes,  I  did.  {Look  between  Ethel  and 
Brent) 

Ethel.    What  did  you  hear? 

Peg.  I  heard  you  say  "  Please  don't.  It's  so  hot 
this  morning  ". 

(Brent  ^noves  np  l.) 

Ethel.  (Pauses)  You  refuse  to  say  why  you're 
here  or  who  you  are? 

Peg.  1  don't  refuse  at  all.  The  gentleman  said 
to  me,  he  said,  ''  You  go  to  the  place  that's  written 
down  on  the  card,  and  you  sit  down  at  the  house, 
and  you  wait,  and  that's  all  you  do — just  wait  ". 

Ethel.     {Turning  to  Brent)     Eh? 

Brent.    Extraordinary. 

Ethel.  {Corning  back  to  table)  The  servants' 
quarters  are  at  the  back  of  the  house. 

Peg.    Yes. 

Ethel,  (c.  front  of  table)  And  I  may  save  you 
the  trouble  of  waiting  by  telling  you  that  we  don't 
need  any  assistants.    We're  quite  provided  for. 

Peg.    Yes. 

Ethel.  {Pause)  If  you  insist  on  waiting,  kindly 
do  so  there.     {Turns  again  to  Brent) 

Peg.  Well,  we're  not  particular  where  we  wait  as 
long  as  we  wait.  They're  sending  us  to  the  kitchen, 
Michael.  {Rising  up  to  opening  r.)  At  the  back 
of  the  house.  Miss? 

Ethel.  Follow  that  path  round  until  you  come 
to  a  door.  Knock,  and  ask  permission  to  wait  there. 
(Peg  gathers  her  bundles  and  her  dog  under  her 
arms  and  goes  to  arch  r.  u.  e.  on  to  top  of  step) 
For  your  future  guidance,  go  to  the  back  door  of 


2S  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

a  house  and  knock.  Don't  walk,  unannounced,  into 
a  private  room. 

Peg.  (In  arch)  Ye  see,  ma'am,  I  coukln't  tell  it 
was  a  private  room.  The  Ijlinds  were  all  up  and  the 
door  was  open.  I  couldn't  tell  it  was  a  private 
room. 

Ethel.     That  will  do.     That  will  do. 

Peg.  And  I  couldn't  knock  on  your  door  because 
it's  a  windy.  (Peg  exit  arch  r.  u.  e.  and  crosses 
to  L.) 

Ethel.  (After  z^vtching  her  off,  moves  doum  l., 
z'cry  angry)     Outrageous! 

Brent.  (Crossing  uf>  to  zvindozv  r.  u.  e.)  Poor 
little  wretch.     She's  rather  pretty. 

Ethel.     (Looking  intelligently  at  f:i:u)     Is  she? 

Brent.    Didn't  you  think  so? 

Ethel.  {Comes  up  to  table  c.)  I  never  notice 
the  lower  orders.     You  apparently  do. 

Erent.  (Comes  dozi'n  r.  level  zcith  her)  She's 
the  strangest  Httle  apparition 

Ethel.  She's  only  a  few  yards  av/ay  if  you  care 
to — [Turns  to  Brent) 

Brent.     Ethel!     (Comes  dozen  nearer  to  licr) 

Ethel,  (c.)  Suppose  my  mother  had  come  in! 
Or  Alaric!     Never  do  such  a  thing  again. 

Brent.    I  was  carried  away.    I 

Ethel.  Kindly  exercise  a  little  more  restraint. 
You'd  better  go  now.     (Crosses  to  stairs  up  l.) 

Brent.  (Follozving  her  to  stairs  round  back  of 
table)     May  I  come  to-morrow? 

Ethel.     No.     Not  to-morrow. 

Brent.     Then  the  following  day? 

Ethel.     Perhaps. 

Brent.     Ethel,  remember  I  build  on  you. 

Ethel.  (Looking  at  him)  I  suppose  we  arc 
worthy  of  each  other. 

(Voices  off  R.) 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  29 

Alaric.      (Off)     Come  this  way,  Mr.  Hawkes. 
I  think  we  shall  find  some  of  the  family  in  here. 
Etiifx.    (To  Brent)    Go  now.     (Goes  upstairs) 

(As  Brent  goes  to  door  l.  Alaric  hurries  in 
through  zvindow  R.  u.  E.,  sees  Ethel,  puts  hat 
on  piano,) 

Alaric.  Wait  a  minute,  Ethel,  (Seeing  Brent) 
Hello,  Brent!    How  are  you?    Disturbin'  you? 

Brent.    No.    I'm  just  going. 

Alaric.  Oh,  don't  go.  I  want  to  ask  you  some- 
thing. (He  goes  up  to  arch  and  calls  to  someone 
in  the  garden)  Come  in,  Mr.  Hawkes.  (Crosses 
to  c.  Enter  Montgomery  Hawkes,  a  siicve,  pol- 
ished, important-looking  man  of  forty.  Alaric 
comes  back,  introducing)  Mr.  Hawkes — my  sister 
— ]\Ir.  Brent.  (Hawkes  bozcs  to  Ethel  and  to 
Bee::t  and  puts  hat  on  table  c.  Alaric  to  Ethel) 
You  might  see  if  the  Mater's  well  enough  to  come 
down,  like  a  dear,  will  ye?  This  gentleman's  come 
all  the  way  from  London  just  to  see  her.  D'ye 
mind?  Bring  her  down  here,  will  you?  (Ethel 
goes  upstairs  and  out  of  sight.  To  Hawkes)  Sit 
down,  Mr.  Hawkes.  (Hawkes  sits  i?i  armchair 
R.  Alaric  goes  dozvn  l.  to  Brent)  Must  ye  go? 
(Alaric  l.,  shaking  him  warmly  by  the  hand  and 
taking  him  to  door  l.)  Sorry  I  was  out.  Run  in 
any  time.  Always  delighted  to  see  you.  Oh,  I  know 
what  it  was  I  wanted  to  ask  vou — Angel  wife  all 
right  ? 

Brent.     Thank  you. 

Alaric.     And  the  darling  child? 

Brent.  Please  give  my  remembrances  to  your 
mother. 

Alaric.  Certainly.  Look  in  any  time.  Any  time 
at  all.  (Exit  Brent  l.,  Alaric  closes  door.  '  Mrs. 
Chichester  and  Ethel,  carrying  dog,  a  little  French 


so  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

poodle,  conic  dozen  the  stairs  l.  Hawkes  rises'. 
Mrs.  Chichester  to  l.  c,  Ethel  to  bench,  sits  l. 
Alakic  goes  up  and  brings  ]\Irs.  Chichester  down. 
R.  of  her,  and  looking  up  at  her  as  she  conies  dozvn- 
stairs)  Here  we  are,  Mater.  I  found  this  gentle- 
man in  a  rose-bed  enquiring  for  our  lodge.  He's 
come  all  the  way  from  dear  old  London  just  to  see 
yon.  (Brings  Mrs.  Chichester  dozvn  l.  c,  bring- 
ing them  together  and  introducing  them.  Alaric  is 
c.)     Mr.  Hawkes — my  mother. 

Mrs.  Chichester,  (l.  c.  anxiously)  You've 
come  to  see  me? 

Hawkes.  On  a  very  important  and  very  private 
family  matter. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Important?     Private? 

Alaric.    We're  the  family,  Mr.  Hawkes. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Her  eyes  filling)  Is  it  bad 
news  ? 

Hawkes.     (Genially)     Oh,  no. 

Alaric.     Is  it  good  news? 

Hawkes.     (Up  r.  of  table)     In  a  measure. 

Alaric.  (Helps  Mrs.  Chichester  to  couch) 
Ah,  then  let's  get  at  it.  We  can  do  with  a  bit  of 
good  news,  can't  we,  Mater?  Wait.  Is  it  by  any 
chance  about  the  bank?     (Crosses  to  l.  of  table) 

Hawkes.  (To  Mrs.  Chichester)  It's  about 
your  late  brother,  Nathaniel. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Late?     Is  Nathaniel  dead? 

(Alaric  l.  of  table.) 

Hawkes.  (Pauses  r.  of  table.  Nods  coin- 
miseratingly)  Ten  days  ago.  I  am  one  of  the  ex- 
ecutors of  the  late  gentleman's  estate.  {Sits  r.  of 
table  c,  and  gets  out  his  papers) 

Mrs.  Chichester.     (Weeps)     Oh! 

Alaric.    Puor  old  Nat !    Eh,  Ethel  ? 

Ethel,     (l.  end  of  couch)     Never  saw  him. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  31 

Mrs.  Chichester.  I  ought  to  have  been  in- 
formed.    The  funeral 

Hawkes.  (Seated  r.  of  table)  There  was  no 
funeral. 

Alaric.    No  funeral? 

Hawkes.  In  obedience  to  his  written  wishes  he 
was  cremated,  and  no  one  was  present  except  his 
chief  executor  and  myself.  He  said  he  so  little 
regretted  not  having  seen  r;.ny  of  his  relations  for 
the  last  twenty  years  that  he  was  sure  they  would 
equally  little  regret  his  death.  On  no  account  was' 
anyone  to  wear  mourning  for  him,  nor  to  express 
any  open  sorrow.  They  wouldn't  feel  it,  so  why 
lie  about  it? 

Mrs.  Chichester.    What? 

Alaric.    Eh  ? 

Haw^kes.    I  use  his  own  v\-ords. 

Alaric.  (l.  of  table)  What  a  rum  old  bird! 
Eh,  Mater? 

]^,Irs.  Chichester,  (r.  oid  of  couch)  He  was 
always  the  most  unfeeling,  the  most  heartless 

Hawkes.    Now,  in  his  will 

Mrs.  Chichester.     (Checking  herself)    Eh? 

Alaric.  A  will!  Did  the  dear  old  gentleman 
leave  a  will? 

(Ethel  watches  them  smilingly  and  listens  intently.) 

Hawkes.  I  have  come  here  to  make  you  ac- 
quainted with  some  of  its  contents. 

Alaric.  (Rubbing  his  hands  gleefully)  Dear 
old  Nat.  I  remember  him  when  I  was  a  baby.  A 
portly,  sandy-haired  old  buck,  with  three  jolly  chins. 

Ha-Wkes.  (Gravely)  He  was  white  towards  the 
end,  and  very  thin. 

Alaric.  (l.  of  table)  Was  he?  It  just  shows, 
doesn't  it?  How  much  did  he  leave?  (Goes  back 
of  treble) 


32  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Hawkes.  His  estate  is  valued  approximately  at 
two  hundred  thousand  pounds. 

Alakic.  {Whistles)  Phew!  {Sits  back  of 
table  c.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {Cries  silently)  Perhaps  it 
was  my  fault  I  didn't  see  him  oftener 

Alaric.    How  did  he  split  it  up? 

Hawkes.    To  his  immediate  relations  he  left 

Alaric.     Yes  ? 

(]\Irs.  Chichester  looks  iip  tJirougJi  her  tears,  add 
Ethel  shozvs  a  little  interest.) 

Hawkes.    I  regret  to  say — nothing. 

Alaric.    What  ? 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Nothing? 

(Ethel  turns  away.) 

Alaric.     Not  a  penny  piece  to  anyone? 

Hawkes.     No. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     His  own  ficsh  and  blood ! 

Alaric.  {Back  of  table)  What  a  shabby  old 
beggar ! 

Mrs.  Chichester.  He  was  always  the  most 
selfish,  the  most  heartless 

Hawkes.  {Turning  back  the  pages  of  the  zcill 
and  reading)  Here  it  is  from  the  will.  "  I  am  not 
going  to  leave  one  penny  of  what  I  have  spent  mv 
life  accumulating  to  people  who  are  already  well 
provided  for." 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {Rises  and  crosses  to  l.  c. 
front  of  table)     But  we're  not  well  provided  for. 

Alaric.     {Rises)     No.     Our  bank's  bust. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    We're  ruined. 

Alaric.     Broke. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  We've  nothing.  (Alaric 
ha)ids  letter  from  tabic  to  Mrs.  Chichester,  who 
hands  it  to  Hawkes) 


PEG  O'  ^lY  HEART  33 

Alaric.    Not  threppcnce. 

Hawkes.  {Back  of  tabic)  Dear!  Dear!  How 
extremely  distressing! 

Alartc.  (Back  of  tabic)  Distressm' !  Dis- 
gust in'  ! 

Hav/kes.  (Hands  letter  back  to  Alaric,_  zvho 
gives  it  to  Jiis  mother)  Then  perhaps  a  clause  in  his 
will  mav  have  a  certain  interest. 

Alaric.  (Helps  Mrs.  Chichester  to  chair  l.  of 
table,  then  sits  again.  All  express  interest)  Clause  ! 
Did  the  dear  old  gentleman  leave  a  clause  ? 

Hawkes.  When  Mr.  Kingsnorth  realized  that 
he  hadn't  very  much  longer  to  live  he  spoke  con- 
stants of  his  other  sister,  Angela. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Seated  l.  of  table)  But 
she's  dead. 

Hawkes.  (Looking  up)  That  was  why  he  spoke 
of  her. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Never  a  word  of  me? 

Hawkes.  We'll  come  to  that  later.  (Refers ^  io 
papers)  It  appears  that  this  sister,  Angela,  married 
at  the  age  of  eighteen  a  certain  improvident  Irish- 
man by  \he  name  of  O'Connell,  was  cut  off  by  her 
family 

Mrs.  Chichester.  The  man  was  a  beggar !  It 
was  a  disgrace! 

y\LARic.     (Checking  her)    Mater! 

Hawkes.  (Continuing  to  read) — went  to  the 
United  States  of  America  with  her  husband,  where 
a  daughter  was  born.  After  going  through  many 
conditions  of  misery  with  her  husband,  who  never 
seemed  to  prosper,  she  died  while  her  child  was  still 
a  baby.  Mr.  Kingsnorth  elsewhere  expresses  his 
lasting  regret  that  in  one  of  his  sister's  acute  stages 
of  distress  she  wrote  to  him,  asking  him  for  the  first 
time  to  assist  her.  He  replied  (Looking  up) 
"  You've  made  your  bed — lie  in  it  ". 


34  PEG  O'  j\IY  HEART 

]\Irs.  Chiciii-ster.  She  had  dlsrrraccd  th^  fa:rii!y. 
He  was  quite  right. 

Alaric.  {Checks  her)  Mater!  }Jater!  He 
hasn't  got  the  old  gentleman's  cb.use  out  yet.  Go 
on.  Mr.  Hawkes. 

Hawkes.  With  death  approaching,  Mr.  Kings- 
north's  conscience  began  to  trouble  him,  and  the 
remembrance  of  his  treatment  of  his  unfortunate 
sister  distressed  him.  H  the  child  were  still  alive 
he  wanted  to  see  her.  So  I  made  enquiries  and 
found  that  the  girl  was  living  with  her  father  in 
very  poor  circumstances  in  the  city  of  New  York. 

Alaric.  New  York,  eh?  Fancy  that.  Ethel! 
New  York ! 

Hawkes.  ^Ve  sent  sufficient  funds  for  the 
journey  and  a  request  to  the  father  to  allow  her  to 
visit  ^\ir.  Kingsnorth  in  England.  The  father  con- 
sented. However,  before  .^he  sailed,  Mr.  Kings- 
north  died. 

Alartc.  (Seated  back  of  table)  Died!  Too 
bad!  That  really  v^as  too  bad,  Ethel.  Eh?  Died! 
(To  Ethel  and  Mrs.  Chichester) 

Hawkes.  Realizing  that  he  would  never  see  her 
he  made  the  most  extraordinary  provision  for  her 
in  his  will. 

Mrs.   Chichester.     He  provided    for  her,   and 


(Alaric  checks  her  and  kisses  Jicr  hand.) 

Hawkes.  Here  is  the  provision.  (Reads)  "I 
hereby  direct  that  to  any  respectable,  well-connected 
women  of  breeding  and  family  who  will  undertake 
the  education  and  up-bringing  of  my  niece,  Margaret 
O'Connell,  in  accordance  with  the  dignity  and  tradi- 
tion of  the  Kingsnorths  there  be  paid  the  sum  of 
one  thousand  pounds  a  year " 


PEG  O'  MY  HExVRT  35 

Alaric.  a  thousand  pounds  a  year !  Fancy  that, 
Ethel !     A  thousand  pounds  ! 

Hawkes.  (Reading)  "If  at  the  expiration  of 
one  year  my  niece  is  found  to  be,  in  the  judgment 
of  my  executors,  unworthy  of  further  interest  she 
is  to  be  returned  to  her  father  and  the  sum  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year  paid  her  to  provide 
her  with  the  necessities  of  Hfe.  But  if,  on  the  other 
hand,  she  proves  herself  worthy  of  the  best  tradi- 
tions of  the  Kingsnorth  family  the  course  of  training 
is  to  be  continued  until  she  reaches  the  age  of 
twenty-one,  when  I  hereby  bequeath  to  her  the  sum 
of  live  thousand  pounds  a  year -" 

Alaric.  Five  thousands  pounds  a  year !  I  mean 
to  say — five  thousand  pounds. 

Hawkes.  " — to  be  paid  her  annually  out  of  my 
estate  during  her  lifetime,  and  to  be  continued  afier 
her  death  to  any  ma.e  issue  she  may  have " 

AIrs.  Chichester.     (Looks  up)     Eh? 

Hawkes.    — by  marriage. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    And  me — his  own  sister 

Alaric.     And  I — who  knew  him  as  a  babv 


Hawkes.  "  On  no  account  is  her  father  to  be 
permitted  to  visit  her,  and  she  must  not  on  any 
account  visit  her  father.  After  the  age  of  twenty- 
one  she  can  do  as  she  pleases  ".     (Looking  up) 

Alaric.  That  clause  doesn't  interest  us  at  all, 
Mr.  Haw^kes. 

Hawkes.  Now  my  dear  Mrs.  Chichester,  it  was 
Mr.  Kingsnorth's  wish  that  the  first  person  to  be 
approached  on  the  matter  of  undertaking  the  train- 
ing of  the  young  lady  should  be  you. 

Mrs.  Chichester.^    (Rising)     I? 

Alaric.     (Rising)     My  mother? 

(Ethel  rises  also,  and  listens  and  ivatches  intently.) 
Hawkes.     (Referring  to  z.'ill)    He  said  he  would 


36  PEG  O'  jMY  heart 

be  "  sure  at  least  of  a  strict  upbringing  in  the  b?st 
traditions  of  the  Kingsnorths,  and  though  narrow 
and  conventional  in  ideas  " 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Well!    Really! 

Hawkes.  Again  I  use  his  own  words.  — "  still, 
his  sister  Monica  was  eminently  fitted  to  undertake 
such  a  charge  ".  There  you  have  the  whole  object 
of  my  visit.  (Rises)  Now  will  you  undertake  the 
training  of  the  young  lady? 

I^Irs.  Chichester.  (Crosses  to  eoiieh)  I  n^ver 
heard  of  such  a  thing. 

Ethel.     Ridiculous ! 

Alaric.     (Coming  dozen  "l.  c.)    Tush!    Tush  and 


nonsense 


Hawkes.     Then  I  take  it  you  refuse? 

jMrs.  Chichester,    (r.  end  of  eoiicii)   Absolutely. 

Ethel.     Entirely. 

Alaric.     (l.  c.)     I  should  say  so. 

Hawkes.  Then  there's  nothing  more  to  be  said. 
]\Ir.  Kingsnorth  was  of  the  opinion  that  you  were 
well  provided  for,  and  that  the  additional  thousand 
a  year  might  be  welcome  as,  say,  pin-money  for 
your  daughter.  (Gathering  up  papers  at  tabic. 
Ethel  and  Mrs.  Chichester  look  at  each  other. 
They  draw  a  little  an'ay  to  front  of  bench) 

Ethel.  (With  a  note  of  biting  sarcasm)  Pin- 
money  !    Ha ! 

Alaric.  (Coming  doien  level  zcith  Mrs. 
Chichester)  IMater!  Ethel!  A  cool  thousand, 
eh? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Pause)  It  would  keep 
things  together. 

Alaric.    The  wolf  from  the  door. 

Ethel.    No  charity. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (To  Alaric)  What  do  vou 
think  ? 

Alaric.     Whatever  you  say,  Mater. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     (To  Ethel)     Ethel? 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  37 

Ethel.    You  decide,  Mamma. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (To  Alaric)  We  might  try 
it  for  a  while,  at  least. 

Alaric.     Until  we  can  look  round. 

]\Irs.  Chichester.  Something  may  be  saved 
from  the  wreck. 

Alaric.    Until  /  get  really  started. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     (To  Ethel)     Ethel? 

Ethel.     Whatever  you  decide.  Mamma. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  I'll  do  it.  (Alaric  turns  up- 
stage a  little)  It  will  be  hard,  but  I'll  do  it.  (Crosses 
into  c.  All  turn  round  to  Hawkes.  Ethel  sits  on 
couch) 

Hawkes.     (r.  c.  smiling)     Well? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  For  the  sake  of  my  poor  dead 
sister  I'll  do  as  Nathaniel  wished. 

Hawkes.  Good!  I'm  delighted.  (Comes  dcivn 
R.  a  little.  Mrs.  Chichester  turns  to  Alaric) 
One  thing  more.  (^Irs.  Chichester  turns  to 
Hawkes  again)  The  young  lady  is  not  to  be  told 
of  the  conditions  of  the  will  unless  at  the  discretion 
of  the  executors,  should  some  crisis  arise.  She  will 
be,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  your  guest. 

Alaric.     Our  guest?    Fancy  that,  Ethel! 

Hawkes.  In  that  way  we'll  arrive  at  a  more 
exact  idea  of  her  character.     Is  that  understood? 

M^.s.  Chichester.     Very  well. 

Hawkes.     Where  is  your  bell? 

Alaric.  There.  (Points  to  bell  up  r.  and  moves 
to  foot  of  stairs) 

Hawkes.     (Going  up  r.)     May  I  ring? 

Alaric.  (Going  up  l.  a  little) "  Certainly.  Want 
a  sandwich  or  something? 

Hawkes.  I  would  like  to  send  for  the  young 
lady.     (Smiling,  he  rings)     The  heiress. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Crossing  to  armchair  r.) 
Where  is  she? 

Hawkes.    She  arrived  from  New  York  this  morn- 


38  PEG  O'  AIY  HEART 

ing  and  I  brought  her  straight  here.  I  had  to  ca.' 
on  a  cHent,  so  I  gave  her  your  address  and  told  her 
to  come  here  and  wait.  (Ethel  rises)  She  ought 
to  be  here  by  now.  {Conies  dozi'u  above  tabic. 
Jarvis  enters  l.)  Is  there  a  young  lady  waiting 
for  Mr.  Hawkes? 

Jarvis.     Yoimg  lady,   sir?     No,   sir.      {Crosses 

L."C.) 

AIrs.  Chichester.     Ihat  wid  do. 

(Jarvis  moirs  tozcards  door  l.) 

Hawkes.     That's  strange. 

Alaric.    There  you  are,  you  see. 

Jarvis.  (Conies  back  to  l.  c.)  Oh,  there  is  a 
young  person  sitting  in  the  kitchen.  Won't  give 
no  account  of  herself.  Says  she's  to  wait  untd  a 
gentleman  calls.    Can't  get  nothing  out  of  her. 

Hawkes.  That  must  be  the  young  lady.  May  I 
bring  her  in? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {Indignantly)  Aly  niece  in 
the  kitchen !  Surely  you  should  know  the  difference 
between  my  niece  and  a  servant  1 

Jarvis.  {At  l.  c.)  Tm  truly  sorry,  Aladam.  but 
there  was  nothing  to  tell 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (r.  front  of  armcJiair) 
That  will  do.  Bring  my  niece  here  at  once.  {Exit 
Jarvis  L.)  It's  monstrous !  {Comes  to  c.  front  of 
table)  ^ 

Alaric.  {Crosses  to  r.,  r.  of  his  mother) 
Stoopid  !     That's  what  I  call  it— Stoopid  ! 

(Ethel  smiles.) 

HAWKi.b.  {Coming  round  l.  of  table  into  l.  c.) 
Perhaps  it  was  my  fault.  1  told  her  not  to  talk- 
to  come  here  and  say  she  was  to  wait. 

Mrs.  Ciiiciiestek.    She  should  have  been  brought 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  39 

strai<^ht  to  me.  The  poor  thing!  My  niece  in  the 
l<itch-n!  (Goes  hack  to  armchair  r.)  A  Kings- 
north  mistalcen  for  a  servant ! 

{The  door  opens  and  the  astonished  Jarvis  enters 
and  beckons  someone  in.  Then  he  looks  help- 
lessly at  Mrs.  Chichester  to  indicate  that  any- 
one might  have  made  the  same  mistake.  Enter 
the  stranger,  quite  composedly,  still  holding  her 
parcels  and  the  dog.  She  comes  to  l.  c.  Mrs. 
Chichester,  Alaric,  and  Ethel,  look  at  her — 
Mrs.  Chichester  and  Alaric  in  horrified 
amazement,  Ethel  ivith  knit  brows.  Jarvis 
looks  at  them  all,  as  much  as  to  say  ''  What  did 
I  tell  yotff  No  one  could  guess.''  Jarvis 
exit  L.) 

Peg.  (Alluding  to  Ethel's  dog)  Where's  the 
rest  of  that?     (Or)     It's  a  dog,  isn't  it? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Sinks  in  chair  r.  c.)  Oh! 
Oh!     (Pause) 

Alaric.  (By  high  chair  r.,  stares  at  the  stranger 
in  astonishment  and  turns  to  Mrs.  Chichester. 
.4 side)  Oh,  I  say!  Really,  you  know!  It  isn't 
true.     It  can't  he. 

Hawkes.  (Crossing  to  meet  Peg  l.  c.)  Come 
here.  We're  all  your  friends.  (Passes  her  across 
him  to  c.  The  stranger  comes  slowly  to  c,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other.  She  bobs  a  little  curtsey 
to  Mrs.  Chichester) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Pause.  Controls  herself 
with  an  effort.  Half -hysterically)  What  is  your 
name  ? 

Peg.    Peg. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    What? 

Peg.  (Bobbing  a  little  curtsey)  Peg.  Peg 
O'Connell,  my  name  is,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Good  heavens!  (To  Alaric) 
Ring,  Agaric. 


40  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Alaric.  (IVhispcring  to  his  mother)  It  can't 
be,  really.  {Goes  up  to  hell  at  back  and  rings. 
Peg  foflows  him  round,  then  laughs  to  }.Ir. 
Hawkes) 

Hawkks.  (Pause.  To  Peg)  This  lady  is  Mrs. 
Chichester. 

Peg.     (r.  c.)     Chich — Chich — ster. 

(Alaric   upstage   :Vy   zcindtj':-'  "i 

Hawkes.  (c,  distinctly)  Chi-chest-er.  Your 
aunt. 

Peg.    Where's  my  uncle? 

Hawkes.  Alas,  my  dear  child,  your  uncle  is 
dead. 

Peg.    Dead?    After  sending  for  me? 

Hawkes.    He  died  just  before  you  sailed. 

Peg.  God  rest  his  soul.  Pm  too  late  then.  Good- 
day  to  yez.     (Bobs  and  starts  for  door  l.) 

Hawkes.  (c.,  intercepting  her)  Where  are  you 
going? 

Peg.     (c.)     Back  to  my  father. 

Hawkes.     (l.  c.)     Oh,  dear,  no. 

Peg.  I  must  go  back  to  my  father  if  my  uncle's 
dead.  I  must  go  back  to  my  father.  If  my  uncle's 
dead  I  must  go  back  to  my  father. 

Hawkes.  It  was  your  uncle's  last  wish  that  you 
should  stay  here  under  your  aunt's  care.  She  has 
kindly  consented  to  give  you  a  home. 

Peg.     (To  Mrs.  Chichester)     Have  ye? 

IMrs.  Chichester.  (Faintly  and  angrily)  I 
have. 

(Alaric  moves  down  l.,  sits  by  Ethel.) 

Peg.  Thank  ye,  ma'am,  but  I  think  I'd  be  just  as 
happy  with  my  father. 

Hawkes.  Nonsense.  You'll  be  very  happy 
here. 


FEG  O'  MY  HEART  4^ 

(Jarvis  enters  l.) 

Peg.  (Looking  from  one  to  (he  oilier)  They 
don't  seem  crazy  about  us,  do  they? 

Mrs.  Chtciiester.  Jarvis,  take  away  those 
parcels  and  that  dog. 

(Jarvis  comes  into  l.  c.) 

Peg.  (Clutching  the  dog)  Oh,  no,  ma'am.  Not 
jMichael.  Ye  can't'take  Michael  away  from  me.  He 
^vas  given  to  me  by  my  father. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  'Take  it  away.  And  never  let 
it  ir^side  the  house  again. 

Peg.  (With  anger  and  pathos)  Well,  if  ye  don't 
Avant  Michael  inside  the  house  ye  don't  want  me 
inside  your  house. 

Hawkes.     (Interposing)     Come,  come 

Peg.  No.  I'm  not  going  to  let  go  my  dog.  I  had 
a  hard  time  getting  him  ashore.  You  don't  under- 
stand about  Michael.  He's  a  house-dog,  not  a 
watch-dog.     A  pet  dog,  Michael  Is. 

PIawkes.  Come,  now.  Don't  let  us  have  an 
argument. 

Peg.  Pm  not  having  an  argument.  Pm  making 
a  statement.  I  don't  know  these  people  ten  minutes, 
and  they  want  to  take  my  dog  away  from  me. 
(Pointing  to  Ethel)  She  has  a  dog  right  in  the 
house.  (PIawkes  looks  at  Ethel's  dog.  Peg, 
under  her  breath)  And  well  ye  may  look.  I 
thought  it  was  her  knitting  until  it  moved. 

Hawkes.  You  must  try  to  do  whatever  your 
aunt  asks  you.  Come,  now — you  can  see  him  when- 
ever you  want  to. 

Peg.     Is  he  going  to  be  in  the  house? 

Hawkes.    Yes. 

Peg.  If  I  ring  the  bell  he'll  bring  him  in? 
(Pointing  to  Jarvis) 


jj  PEG   O'   ^^'^'    TTF  \^T 

Hawkes.    To  be  sir-j  ii"  wi::. 

Pec.  Well,  I  don't  suppose  my  father  wouM 
like  me  to  start  a  fi;:i:ht  first  thinqf.  (Gives  don  to 
Hawkes)  But  I  don't  understand  why  I  can't  have 
my  dog.  (Hawkes  gives  dog  to  Jarvis,  then  takes 
the  bag  from  her  and  hands  it  to  Jarvts,  zvho  re- 
eeives  them  in  disgusted  am  a. cement.  The  parcel 
breaks  open,  and  a  prayer-book,  a  small  bible,  a 
rosary,  end  a  little  dull-framed  photograph  fall  out. 
Hawkes  around  back  of  table  to  l.  Peg  kneels, 
p'les  up  the  articles  and  hands  them  to  Hawkes, 
zcho  pitts  them  on  top  of  bag  Jarvis  is  holding. 
Pec  retains  photo  and  rosary,  caresses  }»IiCiiAEL, 
and  says  appcalingly  to  Jafa'is.  Crossing  to 
Jarvis)  Ye'Il  be  very  nice  to  him,  won't  ye?  Ai?d  if 
ye'Il  give  him  some  water  and  a  bone  Pd  be  much 
obhs^ed.  Pie  loves  mutton-bones.  Ye'Il  find  he's 
crazy  about  mutton-bones.  (Tlie  astonished  Jarvis 
goes  out  holding  the  dog  and  the  parcels  as  far  fro::: 
him  as  possible)  That  was  a  grand  turn  he  made, 
wasn't  it?  (To  Alaric,  sitting  on  couch)  I  hope  he 
gives  him  a  mutton-bone.  ^Michael's  crazy  about 
mutton,  so  he  is. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Stendy)  Come  here. 
(Peg  backs  to  her,  facing  Alaric)     Look  at  me. 

(Peg  turns  to  her.) 

Peg.     Yes.  ma'am. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Don't  call  me  ma'am. 

Peg.  No,  ma'am.  (Checks  herself)  Ant.  I 
mean.     No,  ant,  1  mean. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Aunt — not  **  ant  ". 

Alaric.  (l.  of  couch,  to  Ethel)  "  Ant  "—like 
some  little  crawling  insect. 

Peg.  (Hears  it,  looks  at  Alaric  and  Ethel, 
then  all  round  the  room  as  if  she  missed  someone, 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  43 

then  turns  back  to  Mrs.  Chichester)  Arc  you  my 
uncle  Nat's  widow? 

Mrs.  Chichester.     (Indignantly)     I  am  not. 

Peg.    Then  how  are  you  my  ant — aurnt  ?  ^ 

Mrs.  Chichester.    I  am  your  mother's  sister. 

Peg.     (r.  c.)     Then  yer  name's  Monica? 

Mrs.  Chichester.    It  is. 

Peg.  What  do  you  think  of  that,  now?  (Looks 
coz'ertly  at  the  photo)  You  don't  look  a  bit  like  my 
poor  mother  did. 

]\Irs.  Chichester.     What's  that? 

Peg.  (Softly)  It's  my  poor  mother's  picture, 
that  is. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Let  me  see  it.  (Peg  hands 
it  to  her)  She  had  changed  very  much  since  1  saw 
her. 

Peg.    Sorrow  and  poverty  did  that,  Aunt  }Jonica. 

i\lRS.  Chichester.  Aunt  will  be  sufficient.  Put 
it  away.  (Peg  covers  it  zvitJi  her  hands)  Do  sit 
down. 

Peg.  All  right.  Where'll  I  sit?  (She  looks  at 
Alaric,  zi'ho  does  not  move.  Hawkes  hands  her 
chair  l.  of  table.  Peg  sits)  Thank  ye.  (Mrs. 
Chichester  sighs)  Don't  ye  feel  well?  I  don't. 
I  don't  like  the  steamer.  The  steamer  always  upsets 
me,  the  steamer  does.  (She  looks  round  and  laughs 
at  Alaric,  zvho  is  smoking  a  cigarette  in  a  long 
holder)  Does  that  make  you  think  it's  a  pipe? 
vSure,  I'd  no  idea  in  the  world  I  had  such  fine  rela- 
tions. Though  my  father  always  told  me  I  had  some 
very  nice  folks  on  my  mother's  side. 

(Hawkes  back  of  table  c.) 

Alaric.     (On  couch  l.)     Folks!     Really,  Ethel ! 
(Holds  his  knee  in  his  hands,  lifting  his  leg) 
Mrs.  Chichester.      (Severely,  to  Peg)      Don't 


44  PEG  0'  iMY  HEART 

sprawl  like  that.  Sit  up.  (Peg  docs  so)  Put  your 
fcet  together.  (Peg  puts  one  leg  over  the  other } 
No,  no.     Look  at  your  cousin. 

Peg.  (Uncrosses  her  legs)  Yes,  look  at  hir-. 
He  had  his  feet  in  the  air,  he  had. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    I  mean  your  cousin,  Ethel. 

Peg.  (Sits  up  demurely,  then  look  at  Ethel  and 
turns  bock  to  Mrs.  Ciiichester)  tier?  Oh! 
Ethel's  my  cousin? 

Mrs.  Chichester.     She  is. 

Alaric.  (Rises  and  goes  up  level  z^'ith  her) 
Yes.     And  1  am,  too.      Cousin  Alaric. 

Peg.  (Looks  at  him  a  second  and  laughs,  then 
looks  very  curiously  at  Ethel,  looks  all  round 
again,  turns  to  jMrs.  Chichester)  Where's  her 
husband  gone  to?     (Looking  round  again) 

(Ethel  rises.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Husband? 

Peg.  Yes.  I  saw  her  husband.  Pve  been  in  this 
room  before,  you  know.  I  came  in  that  door.  She 
was  with  her  husband. 

Alaric.    What  in  Heaven's  name  does  she  meaii  ? 

Peg.     She  sent  me  to  the  kitchen.     She  and  him. 

Alaric.     Him?     Who  in  the  world ? 

Ethel.     Mr.  Brent.     (Sits) 

Alaric.    Brent.    Oh!    Ha!    Ha!    Ha!    Ha! 

Pec.  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  (Alaric  stops  laughing 
suddenly,  turns  azvay,  and  stands  by  desk  l.  Pause. 
To  Mrs.  Chichester)  She  thought  I  was  a  servant 
lookin'  for  a  place,  and  Eve  got  my  very  best  hat 
on,  too.  Mr.  Hawkes  told  me  not  to  say  a  word. 
He  said,  *'  you  go  up  to  the  lady's  house  and  you 
wait,  and  when  1  get  there  V\\  do  all  the  talking. 
That's  my  business.     That's  what  I  get  paid  for." 

Hawkes.  (Comes  dozen  level  zcith  Peg)  Ssh ! 
Ssh !     Ssh!     My  time  short.     You  must  do  evcrv- 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  45 

thing  your  aunt  tells  you.  Try  to  please  her  in  all 
things".  On  the  first  day  of  every  month  I'll  call 
and  find  out  what  progress  you're  making.  (Crosses 
front  of  Peg— to  Mrs.  Chichester,  handing  card) 
This  is  my  business  address.  (Crossing  to  tabic) 
Now  I  must  take  my  leave.     (Takes  up  his  hat) 

Peg.  (Springing  up  breathlessly  and  fright cncdly) 
Fm  going  with  ye,  too. 

Hawkes.    Come,  come. 

Peg.  (Earnestly — her  eyes  filing)  My  father 
mightn't  like  me  to  stay  here,  now  that  my  uncle's 
dead. 

Hawkes.  It  was  your  uncle's  last  wish  that  you 
should  come  here.  \Vhy,  your  father  will  be  de- 
lighted at  your  good  fortune.  Good-bye,  i\iiss 
O'Conneil. 

Peg.  (Shaking  hands  zvith  ]\Ir.  Kawkes) 
Good-bye,  ]\Ir.  Hawkes.  And  thank  ye  for  bein'  so 
kind  to  me. 

(Alaric  opens  door  for  Hawkes.) 

Hawkes.  (Bozl's  to  her)  I\Iiss  Chichester.  By 
Jove,  I'll  just  catch  the  express.  (Looking  at  Jiis 
zvatch) 

Alaric.    liave  a  cab? 

Hawkes.  (Crossing  to  door  l.)  No.  No  lug- 
gage.   Like  the  walk.     Good  day.     (Exit  l.) 

Alaric.  (Calling  off  l.)  Jarvis,  the  door.  (He 
closes  the  door  and  remains  by  desk  l.) 

(Peg  zvist fully  zi'oJches  Hawkes  go,  then  looks  de- 
jectedly at  the  floor,  then  sits  in  chair  again.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Sez'crely)  Your  name  is 
Margaret. 

Peg.  (Quickly)  Peg.  (Catches  herself)  My 
name  is  Peir. 


46  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

(Alaric  sits  at  desk.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  That  is  only  a  corruption. 
We  will  call  you  Margaret. 

Peg.  {Pause)  All  right.  But  don't  blame  m-j 
if  I'm  not  there,  will  yc?  (Alaric  banas  desk) 
I'm  very  much  afraid  indeed  that  I'll  forget  to 
answer  to  the  name  of  Margaret.  My  name  is  Peg 
anyway.  My  father  always  calls  mc  P^g.  It  will 
put  me  in  mind  of  my  father. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Kindly  leave  your  father  out 
of  our  conversation. 

Peg.  (Rises,  to  AIrs.  Chichester,  zvifh  a  sudden 
flash  of  auger)    Then  it's  all  I  will  leave  him  out  of. 

1\Irs.  Chichester.  No  temper,  if  you  please. 
(Peg  sits  dozvn  breathing  hard.  Pause)  You  must 
take  my  daughter  as  your  model  in  all  things.  (Peg 
looks  at  Ethel,  half  inclined  to  cry,  half  to  lough) 
Everything  she  does  you  must  try  to  imitate.  You 
cannot  have  a  better  example.  Mould  yourself  on 
her. 

Peg.  {Tries  to  sit  as  Ethel  is  sitting,  to  pose  as 
sJie  does,  to  arrange  her  dress  as  sJie  has  hers  ar- 
ranged. Imitates  her)  "  Please  don't.  It's  so  hot 
this  mornin'."     (Laughs) 

Mrs.  Chichester.     What  do  you  mean? 

Peg.  W^e  have  a  little  joke  together,  haven't  wc? 
{To  Ethel) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Rising,  to  Peg)  You  have 
a  great  deal  to  learn. 

Peg.    Yes,  aunt. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Until  some  decent  clothes  err. 
be  procured  for  you  we'll  hnd  some  from  mv 
daughter's  wardrobe. 

Peg.  Sure,  I've  got  a  beautiful  silk  dress  that  I 
wear  to  Mass  on  Sunday.  It's  a  very  pretty  siik 
dress.  I  couldn't  wear  it  on  the  shi})  because  it 
would  get  all  wet.    I  can't  wear  my  Sunday  clothes. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  47 

ma'am.  T  must  wear  my  traveling  suit  when  I'm 
traveling. 

:\Irs.'^  Ciitc [TESTER.  (Risiiig — checking  Peg) 
That  will  do.  Ring,  Alaric.  (Alaric  crosses  back 
of  {able  to  bell  cud  rings.  To  Peg)  ^  You  mun 
try  to  rcah!ze  that  you  have  an  opportunity  very  few 
girls  in  your  position  are  ever  given.  I  only  hope 
you  v/ill  try  to  repay  our  interest  and  your  late 
uncle's  wishes  by  obedience.  i-Qod  conduct,  and  hard 
study. 

Peg.  (Meekly,  her  eyes  tzvinkling  7vith  mischief) 
?vly  dress  has  lace  on"  it,  too,  you  know.  (Mrs. 
Ckici-iester  turns  azvay)  Well,  I  don't  want  you 
to  think  my  father  doesn't  buy  me  any  pretty  clothes. 
I  have  some  grand  dresses. 

{Enter  Jarvis  l.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Jarvis,  tell  Bennett  to  show 
my  niece  to  the  Mauve  Room  and  to  attend  her. 
Jarvis.    Yes,  ma'am.     {Goes  to  top  of  stairs) 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Now  go  with  him. 

Pec.  Of  course,  I  know  this  suit  is  very  old,  and 
should  be  mended  and  pressed.  I  wish  I'd  worn 
my  silk  dress.  {Rises  and  crosses  to  l.  c.  to  Ethel) 
I've  got  two  silk  dresses.  Miss.  I've  got  a  blue  one 
and  a  pink  one.  The  blue  one  is  my  going-to-jJass 
dress.  It's  dark  blue.  And  the  pink  one  is  mv 
party  dress.  It  has  a  black  velvet  sash  on  it — a  wide 
black  velvet  sash.  (Ethel  looks  azvay)  It's  very 
black,  too,  it  is.  (Ethel  takes  no  notice.  Peg  sees 
dog)  Hello !  I've  got  two  silk  dresses.  Did  you 
know  that?  {As  dog  takes  no  notice  Peg  goes  to 
table  L.  c.)  Devil  a  bit  he  cares  about  dresses. 
(//  dog  is  friendly,  and  goes  to  Peg,  she  takes  him 
tip  saying)  Look  at  that  now.  He's  very  friendly. 
Dogs  like  me,  dogs  do.  {Pnts  down  dog)  You'll 
:::;.•■     "'^    ^ct   over   {h:\-^,   -"oun^    fellow.      Nice    and 


48  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

friendly.  I  vronder  where  he  picked  it  up.  (//  dog 
jumps  up  and  do7cn,  make  him  do  it  tzvo  or  three 
times,  and  say)  I'm  a  dog-trainer,  I  am.  He  should 
be  on  wheels. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Now  go  with  him. 

Peg.  Yes,  ma'am.  (Turns  to  Jarvis  and  laughs, 
then  looks  at  Ethel,  then  at  ]\Irs.  Chichester, 
then  at  Alaric)  Of  course  PlI  try  to  do  everything 
you  want  me  to  do,  but  I'm  very  far  away,  and  it's 
all  so  strange,  and  I  do  miss  my  father  so  much — 
(Checks  herself) 

Mrs.  Chichester.     (Coldly)     Go  with  him. 

Peg.  Yes,  ma'am.  (Bobs,  then  shrinks  into  her- 
self, creeps  quietly  upstairs  l.,  looks  at  Jarvis,  zvho 
does  not  move)  Pie's  not  going.  (Or,  He  doesn't 
know  where  to  go.  Business  with  Jarvis.  They 
exit) 

(Alaric,  Ethel  and  ^Irs.  CiixCiiester  lock  a:  each 
other.) 

Alaric.     (r.  to  Ethel)     Eh? 

Ethel.     (On  bench  l.)    Awful! 

Mrs.  Chichester,     (c.)     Terrible! 

Alaric.  (Leaning  on  chair  r.)  It's  our  unlucky 
day. 

]Mrs.  Chichester,  (c.)  One  thing  is  absolutely 
necessary.  She  must  be  kept  away  from  everyone 
for  the  present. 

Alaric.  I  should  say  so.  Good  Lord  !  Jerry ! 
He  mustn't  see  her.  Ple'd  laugh  his  head  oft'at  the 
idea  of  me  having  a  relation  like  that.  He'll 
probably  run  in  for  lunch. 

(Ethel  rises,  picks  up  dog.  and  crosses  up  to  foot 
of  stairs.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.    She  must  remain  in  her  room 


V 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  49 

until  he's  gone.  Meanwhile  I'll  go  into  town  and 
order  some  things  for  her  and  see  about  tutors. 
She's  got  to  be  taught,  and  at  once.  {Crosses  to 
desk  and  picks  up  list) 

Ethel.     But  why  put  up  wkh  it  at  all,  Mother? 

TdRS.  Chichester.  (Tttrns  to  Ethel)  One 
thousand  pounds  a  year.  That's  the  reason.  And 
rather  than  you  should  have  to  make  any  sacrifice, 
dear,  I'd  put  up  with  worse  than  that. 

Ethel.  Yes,  I  believe  you  would.  I  wouldn't. 
(Up  the  stairs) 

Alaric.    Where  are  you  off  to,  Ethel  ? 

Ethel.  (At  head  of  stairs)  To  make  up  my 
mind,  if  I  can,  about  something.  The  coming  of 
Peg  may  do  it  for  me.     (Exit  l.  upstairs) 

Alaric.  I'll  go  with  you.  Mater,  as  far  as  the 
Station  Road,  and  see  if  I  can  head  Jerry  off. 
(Looks  at  zvatch)  His  train  is  due  if  it's  punctual. 
(Crosses  to  piano  and  gets  hat) 

(Enter  Jarvis  l.  zvith  fresh  flo-zvers.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (To  Jarvis)  Oh,  Jarvis,  my 
niece  is  not  to  leave  her  room  without  my  permis- 
sion. 

Jarvis.    Yes,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Come,  Alaric.  (Goes  to  door 
l.  in  front  of  Jarvis,  who  holds  it  open) 

Alaric.  (Crossing  l.)  Anv  callers,  Jarvis, 
v/e'll  be  back  to  lunch.  One  sharp.  (Exit  l.,  fol- 
lozving  Mrs.  Chichester  otit.  Maid  comes  dozvn- 
stairs  laughing.  They  exchange  looks.  The  maid 
nods  in  the  direction  of  upstairs  and  laughs) 

Jarvis  (To  maid)  Bennett.  (Jarvis  crosses 
to  hack  of  table  c,  Maid  to  l.  of  table) 

Maid.     Well?    Have  vou  seen  her? 

Jarvis.     I  have. 

Maid.     Have  you  ever  seen  anvthini?  like  her? 


50  PEG  O'  :\IY  HEART 

Tarvis.  Never  in  my  life.  Bring  me  ever  the 
vase,  will  you  ? 

(^Iaid  gets  z'GSC  from  desk  l.) 

Maid.    What  do  you  make  of  her? 

(Jarvis  goes  up  to  hack  for  vase.) 

Jarvis.  (Comes  back  to  table)  Every  family 
I've  served  had  its  family  skeleton.     That's  ours. 

]\1aid.     {Flitting  flozcers  in  vase)     A  niece? 

Jarvis.     So  they  say. 

"■Maid.  She  ha'sn't  a  rag  to  her  back.  I'd  be 
ashamed  to  be  dressed  as  she  is.  You  should  see  the 
one  she  goes  to  ^lass  in. 

Jarvis.  I  did.  All  wrapped  up  in  "  The  Irish 
Times  ".  And  I  get  ragged  for  putting  her  in  the 
kitchen.  (Goes  to  back  zcith  flozvers)  Looked  too 
good  for  her.  And,  wha!:  do  you  think?  That  dog 
tried  to  bite  me. 

Maid.     Where  is  the  dog  now? 

Jarvis.  Tied  up  in  tlie  stables,  worrying  the 
horses. 

(Door  bangs.     Slam  l.) 

Maid.  Thev're  gone.     {Goes  to  stairs,  half  z^av 

up)  ' 

Jarvis.  {Comes  to  chair  front  of  table)     Oh, 

Bennett.  The  niece  is  not  to  leave  her  room  with- 
out permission.    You'd  better  tell  her. 

Maid.  (Going  upstairs)     Oh,  my!     These  poor 

relations.  (LigJitning  effect.) 

(Jarvis  puts  chair  back  to  l.  of  table,  picks  up 
paper,  and  crossing  l.  to  desk.  Dozen  the  path 
comes  a  man  zcho  makes  straight  for  the  R.  u. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  51 

E.  He  is  Jerry,  a  tail,  athletic,  breezy,  tanned, 
hroad-shoiddered,  energetic  young  man  of 
tivcntv-six,  magnetic  in  all  he  says  and  does. 
He  swings  in  briskly  through  arch  r.  u.  e.) 

Jerry.    Hullo,  Jarvis.    How  are  you  ? 

Jarvis.     Quite  nicely,  thank  you,  sir. 

Jerry.  (Puts  hat  on  table  c.)  Where's  every- 
one?    (Down  r.) 

Jarvis.  Just  drove  away,  sir.  (Comes  l.  of 
table) 

Jerry.     (Sits  armchair  r.)     What  time's  lunch? 

Jarvis.    One,  sir. 

Jerry.    All  well? 

Jarvis.     Yes,  sir. 

Jerry.     Anything  new? 

Jarvis.  (l.  c.j  No,  sir.  (Coughs.  Pause. 
Looks  up  the  stairs)  Yes,  sir.  There's  a  new 
(Slight  pause)  mare  in  the  stable,  sir.  Came  yes- 
terday. 

Jerry,     (r.  c.)     Miss  Ethel's? 

Jarvis.    Yes,  sir. 

Jerry.  I'll  go  and  have  a  look  at  her.  (Starts  up 
R.,  picking  up  Jiat) 

Jarvis.  There's  a  strange  dog  tied  to  the  door, 
sir.     Better  walk  round  him,  sir.     Snappy. 

Jerry.    A  new  dog,  too,  eh?    Mr.  Alaric's? 

Jarvis.    No,  sir. 

Jerry.    Whose  is  it? 

Jarvis.     It  just  came,  sir. 

(Thunder  effect.) 

Jerry.    What  breed  ? 

Jarvis.     It  might  be  anything,  sir. 

(Thunder  effect.) 

Jerry.     I'll  look  that  over,  too.     (Thunder  rolls 


52  PEG  O'  .MY  HEART 

i)}  t1:c  distance)  Hullo,  storm's  blowinc^  up.  If 
I\Ir.  Alaric  turns  up  send  him  out  to  me,  will  you? 
(Goes  off) 

( TJie  sound  of  voices  upstairs  is  heard,  and  the 
maid  appears,  follozvcd  by  Peg.  Peg  is  in  her 
going-to-Mass  dress.  Jakvis  arranges  hooks 
and  magazines  on  table  c.) 

IMaid.     The  missus  said 

Peg.  (Dozini  stairs)  I'll  come  out  of  my  room 
if  I  want  to. 

Matd.  The  missus  said  you  were  not  to  leave 
your  room. 

Peg.  I  want  to  tell  you  something.  Miss. —  It's 
a  long  time  since  I  had  a  nurse.  {Comes  doi^'n- 
srairs.  Locks  at  Jarvis)  It's  a  funny  job  you've 
got,  isn't  it?  (Goes  to  c.  of  table)  Standing  round, 
looking  mad  all  the  time.  (Goes  r.)  I'll  come  down 
in  your  parlor  if  I  want  to.  \\'hat's  a  parlor  for  but 
to  keep  company  in?  Well,  I'm  company  and  this 
is  the  parlor,  so  we're  all  right. 

Jarvis.     (To  Maid)     Well? 

oMaid.  (l.  c.  to  Peg)  You'll  only  get  me  into 
trouble. 

Peg.  I  wouldn't  do  that  for  all  the  world.  I':! 
get  all  the  throuble,  Miss.  I'll  get  it  now.  (Goes  to 
door  L.,  opeiis  it,  and  calls)  Ant!  Aurnt !  I  want 
to  see  your  parlor,  and  your  nurse  won't  let  me. 

Maid.    They've  all  gone  out. 

Peg.  (Comes  back  to  c,  closing  door)  Well, 
why  didn't  you  tell  me  they'd  all  gone  out.  You  let 
me  shout  my  head  off,  and  then  tell  me  they'v<* 
all  gone  out.  You'd  better  go  out  too.  (They  do 
not  move)  Go  on  with  you.  (Jarvis  and  Mai:-> 
move  toivards  door  l.,  tlien  stop  and  turn.  To 
Jarvis)  I  don't  know  whether  to  laugh  or  crv  at 
him.     (Maid  laughs.    She  and  Jarvis  )ook  at  each 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  53 

other  in  auiazcuicnt,  and  exeunt  l.  Lightning.  Ex- 
amines all  the  things,  zvhich  are  nezv  to  her.  Laughs. 
Sees  Cupid  on  piano,  runs  to  it,  and  claps  her  hands) 
Hullo,  Cupid,  ye  darling.  You're  the  one  that  causes 
all  the  mischief  in  the  world,  ye  devil.  (Thunder. 
Sits  end  of  piano-stool  and  crosses  herself)  Oh, 
Holy  Mary!  (She  coivers  into  herself  and  prays. 
Jerry  appears  zvith  Michael  in  his  arms.  It  has 
grozvn  very  dark.  Lightning.  Peg  trembles  in 
terror,  her  hack  to  Jerry) 

Jerry.     (Comes  dozvn  l.  to  l.  c.)     Hello! 

Peg.  (Turns  quickly)  Michael  !^  (Thunder. 
Runs  to  Jerry,  snatches  dog  from  him,  and  runs 
over  to  L.,  chattering  zvith  fear  and  looking  sus- 
piciously at  Jerry.  Jerry  looks  at  Peg  in  astonish- 
ment. 'Tzvo  flashes  of  lightning)  Shut  it  out! 
Shut  it  out!  Shut  the  storm  out!  (Jerry  drains 
the  citrtains  and  comes  dozvn  to  Peg)  That's  right, 
sir.  (Explaining  to  Jerry)  Don't  go  near  the  dog. 
You  mustn't  come  near  the  dog,  (Puts  dog  outside 
door  L.)     Dogs  attract  lightning. 

Jerry.  (Looking  at  her  in  amazement)  Does  he 
belong  to  you  ? 

Peg.     (Nods)     \Miat  were  you  doin'  with  him? 

Jerry.  I  found  him  barking  at  a  very  high- 
spirited  mare. 

Peg.     ^lare  ?     \\^here  ? 

(Lightning.) 

Jerry,     (r.  of  table)     Tied  to  the  stable  door. 
Peg.      The    stable?      Is    that    where    thcv    out 
Michael? 

(TJiundcr.) 

Jerry.  (Coming  dozvn  c.)  Don't  be  frightened. 
It's  only  a  summer  storm. 


54  PKG  O'  MY  HEART 

Peg.  (In  aicc)  Summer  or  winter,  they  shrivel 
me  up. 

Jerry.  Come  and  look  at  it.  They're  beautiful 
in* this  part  of  the  country.  Come  and  watch  it. 
{Going  to  ivindoic  at  back  and  lifting  curtain) 

(Lightning.) 

Peg.  (Sits  l.  of  tabic)  Shut  it  out!  Shut  it 
out !  I'll  not  look  at  it  at  all.  They  say  if  you  look 
at  the  sky  when  the  lightning  comes  ye  can  see  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven.  And  the  sight  of  it  blinds 
some  and  kills  others  accordin'  to  the  state  of  grace 
ye're  in. 

(Lightning.) 

Jerry.  (Coming  doi>.'n  r.  of  tabic)  You're  a 
Catholic  ? 

Peg.  Of  course  Pm  a  Catholic.  What  else  is 
anybody?  (Thunder)  It  does  seem  to  me  that  He 
is  very  angry  with  us  for  our  sins. 

Jerry.     With  me,  perhaps,  not  with  you. 

Peg.     What  do  you  mane  by  that? 

Jerry.     You  don't  know  what  sin  is. 

Peg.  And  who  may  you  be,  to  talk  to  me  like 
that? 

Jerry.     My  name  is  Jerry.     What's  yours? 

Peg.  Peg.  {Looks  round  at  stairs)  That's 
what  it  is,  too,  Peg.     Jerry,  did  ye  say? 

(A^7/;/.) 

Jerry.     Just  plain  Jerry.     And  you're  Peg? 

Peg.     (Nods)     Just  plain  Peg. 

Jerry.  (Comes  doivn  r.  of  tabic  arul  sits)  I 
don't  agree  with  you.    I  think  you're  very  charming. 

Peg.  (Seated  l.  of  table)  You  mustn't  say 
things  like  that — with  the  storm  outside. 


' 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  55 

Jerry.     (Coming  dozen  r.  c.)     I  mean  it. 

Peg.  Ye  don't.  The  man  that  thinks  them  things 
never  savs  them  to  your  face.  My  father  always 
said  to  me  "  Now,  Peg,  there's  one  sort  of  a  fellow 
you've  got  to  be  very  careful  of,  and  that's  the  one 
that  says  flattering  things  right  in  your  face.  "  He's 
no  good,"  he  says.    "  He's  no  good." 

Jerry.     Who  are  you? 

Peg.  Did  ye  ever  see  such  a  funny-looking  sofa 
as  that  one?  What  do  ye  do  with  it?  Do  ye  sit  on 
it,  or  lie  down  on  it? 

Jerry.     \\'hichever  you  like. 

Peg.  I  think  it  should  have  a  back  and  some 
handles  if  it  wants  to  be  a  sofa. 

Jerry.     Who  are  you? 

Peg.  (Rises)  And  look  here.  Ive  found  another 
funny  one  over  here.  (Crosses  and  sits  in  chair  l.) 
Do  you  know  what  this  is?  It's  a  high-chair.  I 
never  heard  of  anybody  keeping  a  high-chair  in  the 
parlor,  did  you?  And  I  never  heard  of  anybody 
buying  a  sofa  that  looks  like  a  bench.  (Crosses  io 
him,  sliding  on  carpet)  And  the  carpet — it's  a 
slippery  carpet.  I  can  make  poses  on  it.  (Slides 
hack  to  him,  posing.  Jerry  laughs.  Peg  slides  to 
bench  and  hack  again)  We  have  a  carpet  home. 
But  our  carpet's  not  slippery.  This  must  be  a  cheap 
one.  Our  carpet  has  roses  on  it,  big  red  and  yellow 
roses.  Makes  the  room  more  cheerful — more  like 
a  parlor. 

Jerry,    ^^llo  in  the  world  are  you  ? 

Peg.     Do  you  know  Alaric? 

Jerry.     Yes,  of  course. 

Peg.  I  wish  I  could  take  him  home  and  sho-  - 
him  to  my  father. 

Jerry.     Who  are  you? 

Peg.  (l.  c.)  And  the  big  fellow.  Are  you 
acquainted  with  the  big  fellow  who  works  in  this 
house  ? 


56  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Jerry.  The  big  fellow?  I  don't  think  I  lir.ow 
him. 

Peg.     He's  all  in  front  of  himself. 

Jerry,     (r.  c.)     Oh,  you  mean  Jarvis. 

Peg.  Jarvis.  Do  you  know  all  he  does  to  make 
his  living — that  great  big  strong  fellow?  He  just 
carries  round  a  little  card  on  a  big  plate,  to  tell 
who's  coming  to  the  house.  (She  turns  and  points 
to  the  bench  again) 

Jerry.    Now,  who  in  the  world  are  you? 

Peg.     You  asked  me  that  before,  didn't  you? 

Jerry.    Yes. 

Peg.  Well,  Fm  my  aunt's  niece,  I  am.  (Sitting 
on  sofa.     Pause) 

Jerry.  (On  sofa,  smiling)  And  who  is  your 
.aunt? 

I^'eg.     ]\[rs.  Chi — ch — es — cs — chcr. 

{LigJits  slozuly  up  to  full.) 

Jerry.    \Mio  ? 

Peg.     Mrs.  Chi — ch — es — es. 

Jerry.     Mrs.  Chichcstor. 

Peg.  That's  it.  You  have  to  jump  it  in  the 
middle. 

Jerry.     Really?    How  extraordinary ! 

Peg.  Isn't  it?  You  wouldn't  expect  a  fine  lady 
like  her  to  have  a  niece  like  me,  would  ye? 

Jerry.    That  isn't  what  I  meant. 

"Peg.  Yes,  it  is.  And  you  mustn't  tell  untruths 
with  the  storm  outside. 

Jerry.  I  was  thinking  that  I  don't  remember 
Alaric  ever  telling  me  he  had  such  a  charming 
cousin.     (By  sofa  l.) 

Peg.  Alaric  didn't  know  I  was  alive  till  I  dropped 
down  from  the  clouds  this  morning. 

Jerry.     \Miere  did  you  drop  from? 

Peg.    New  York. 


PEG  O'  INIY  HEART  57 

Jerry.    Really?    How  odd ! 
{Stop  rain.) 

Peg.  Not  at  all.  It's  just  the  same  as  any  other 
h'lf:  city.  There's  nothing  odd  about  New  York. 
It's  a  big  place,  New  York  is. 

Jerry.  (Hesitatingly,  and  tmth  pronounced 
English  accent)     Were  you  born  there? 

Peg.     What  was  that  you  said? 

Jerry.     I  said,  "Were  you  born  there?" 

Peg.    Yes,  I  was. 

Jerry.     By  way  of  Old  Ireland? 

Peg.     How  did  you  guess  that? 

Jerry.    Your  slight,  but  delightful,  accent. 

Peg.    I've  got  an  accent? 

Jerry.     Yes. 

Peg.  Well,  I  was  much  too  polite  to  say  any- 
thing, but  I  was  thinking  you  had  an  accent. 
(Jerry  laughs)  ^^'hat  are  you  laughing  at? 
Haven't  you  ever  listened  to  yourself? 

Jerry.    No.    I  can't  say  I  have. 

Peg.  Well,  you  said  to  me  just  now  "  Were  you 
born  there?"     (Imitating  him) 

Jerry.    Well,  how  would  you  say  it? 

Peg.  I'd  say  it  naturally — "Were  you  born 
there?"  I'd  say.  "Were  you  born  there?"  ^ 
wouldn't  fall  over  my  words.  I'd  say  it  straight  out 
of  my  face.  I  wouldnt  make  a  song-and-dance  out 
of  it.' 

Jerry.  (Sits  beside  her.  She  moves  a  litth 
away)  I  see.  (Laughing)  Hello!  (Goes  t:' 
zvindozv  and  pulls  curtains  open)  The  storm's 
over.  All  the  anger  has  gone  from  the  heaven:. 
See!     (Draws  open  the  curtains) 

(Lights  full  up.) 


58  PEG  O'  :\IY  HEART 

Peg.  (Under  Iicr  breath)  Praise  be  to  God  for 
that ! 

Ji-RRV.  (Coming  dozen  r.)  Are  you  golnr;^  to 
stay  here? 

Peg.     Mebbc  I  will.     ]\Iebbe  I  won't. 

Jerry.     Did  your  aunt  send  for  you? 

Peg.     No  :    my  uncle  Nat. 

Terry.     Nat  ?  ^ 

Peg.     Nathaniel   Kingsnorth,   God   rest   his   soul 

Jerry.     Nathaniel  Kingsnorth? 

Peg.  (Seated  on  couch,  nods)  Sleepin'  in  his 
grave,  poor  man ! 

Jerry.  (Crosses  to  back  to  bench  l.)  Then 
you're  Margaret  O'Connell  ? 

Peg.    I  am.     How  did  you  know  that? 

Jerry.  Why.  I — (Goes  to  sit — sees  her  look) 
Alay  I  sit  here? 

Peg.  That's  what  you  said  it  was  for.  Go  on 
and  sit. 

(Jerry  sits  back  to  audience.) 

Jerry.    I  was  with  your  uncle  when  he  died. 

Peg.    Were  ye? 

Jerry.    He  told  me  all  about  you. 

Peg.  Did  he?  I  wish  the  poor  man  'd  have 
lived.  (Pause)  I  wish  he'd  sent  for  me  sooner. 
He  with  all  his  money  and  my  father  with  none, 
and  me  his  sister's  only  child. 

Jerry.    \\'hat  does  your  father  do? 

Peg.  (On  couch  l.,  eagerly)  Anything.  My 
father  can  do  anything  at  all.  Except  make  money. 
And  when  *he  does  make  it  he  can't  keep  it.  He 
doesn't  like  money.  Neither  do  I.  (Pause)  Pve 
never  had  much  to  like.  Rut  Pve  seen  others 
around  us  with  plenty,  and  we've  been  the  happiest 
— that  we  have.  When  times  were  the  hardest  I 
never  heard  a  word  of  complaint  from  my  father  or 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  59 

saw  a  frown  on  his  face.  (Pause)  Sure,  we're 
more  like  boy  and  girl  than  father  and  daughter. 
(Pmise)  And  I'm^  sick  for  the  sight  of  him. 
(Pause)  And  I'm  sure  he  is  for  me — for  his 
'*  Peg — o' — my — heart  ",  as  he  always  calls  me. 
(Covers  her  eyes)     I  wish  I  was  back  home. 

Jerry.     (Gently)     Don't  do  that. 

Peg.  (Wiping  her  eyes  ivith  a  large  handker- 
chief, zvhich  is  fastened — folded — by  a  safety-pin  to 
her 'dress)  I  don't  cry  very  often.  (Pause)  My 
father  never  made  me.  I  never  saw  him  cry  but 
twice  in  my  life.  Once  when  he'd  made  a  little 
money  and  w^e  had  a  Mass  said  for  my  mother'c 
soul  and  had  the  most  beautiful  candles  lit  on  Our 
Lady's  altar.  And  when  I  left  him  to  come  here. 
(Pause)  He  laughed  and  joked  w^ith  me  up  to  the 
last  minute,  and  when  the  ship  swung  away  from 
the  dock  he  just  broke  down  and  sobbed  like  a  little 
child.  *'  My  Peg ",  he  kept  sayin',  ''  My  little 
Peg  ".  And  I  wanted  to  get  off  the  ship  and  go  to 
him.  But  we'd  started,  and  I  didn't  know  how  to 
swim.  (Pause)  I  cried  myself  to  sleep  that  night. 
I'm  not  going  to  be  happy  here.  (Pause)  I  only 
came  here  because  my  father  thought  it'd  be  for  my 
good.  (Pause)  And  they  won't  make  a  lady  out 
of  me  if  I  can  help  it.  (Pause)  Ye  can't  make  a 
silk  purse  out  of  a  sow's  ear.  That's  what  mv 
father  said.    And  that's  what  I  am — a  sow's  ear. 

Terry.  (Rises.  Crosses  c,  gently)  I  don't 
agree  with  you. 

Peg.  (Wiping  her  eyes)  I  don't  care  whether 
ye  do  or  not.     I'm — a  sow's  ear,  I  am. 

Jerry,  (c.)  When  the  strangeness  wears  off 
you'll  be  ver}'  happy  here. 

Peg.     What  makes  ye  think  that? 

Jerry.  Because  you'll  know  that  you  are  pleas- 
ing your  father. 

Peg.    But  I'm  all  alone 


6o  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Jkrrv.     You're  among  friends. 

Peg.  (Shakes  Jicr  head)  They're  ashamed  of 
me. 

Jerry,     (c.)     Ob,  no. 

Peg.  They  are.  They  sent  me  to  the  kitchen 
when  I  first  came  here.  And  they  put  ]\Iichael  to 
sleep  in  the  stable.  I  want  to  tell  you  Michael's 
not  used  to  sleeping  in  a  stable.  We  never  had  any. 
That  was  a  quick  joke,  wasn't  it?  Michael  has  al- 
ways slept  with  my  father  ever  since  he  was  a 
little  bit  of  a  puppy.  {Crosses  him  to  r.  c.) 
Michael,  I  mean.  I  thought  you  might  think  I 
meant  my  father. 

Jerry.  \\"hen  they  really  get  to  know  you  they'll 
be  just  as  proud  of  you  as  your  father  is — as  I'd  be. 

Peg.  (To  corner  of  piano,  looks  at  hiui,  then 
picks  up  music)  You'd  be?  (Pause)  Why 
should  you  be  proud  (Pause)  of  me? 

Jerry.  Pd  l^e  more  than  proud  if  you'd  look  on 
me  as  a  friend. 

Peg.    But  I  don't  know  who  ye  arc  at  all.  do  I  ? 

Jerry.  (Sitting  on  table  r.)  Oh,  I  can  give  vou 
some  very  good  references.  For  instance,  I  was 
up  at  the  same  college  as  your  cousin  Alaric. 

Peg.  (Sits  on  piano-stool)  Were  ye?  Well,  I 
would  mention  that  to  very  few  people. 

Jerry.    Don't  you  want  me  to  be  your  friend  ? 

Peg.  I  don't  know.  Pm  like  the  widow's  pig 
that  was  put  in  a  rale  bed  to  sleep  in.  The  pig 
neither  wanted  it  nor  it  didn't  want  it.  It  had 
done  without  it  all  its  life,  and  it  wasn't  cryin'  its 
heart  out  for  the  loss  of  somethin'  it  had  never 
had  and  didn't  miss.  (Jerry  laughs  heartily)  I 
want  to  tell  you  that's  one  thing  that's  in  vour  favor. 

Jerky.     What  is? 

Peg.  The  laughter's  not  dead  in  ye  as  it  is  in 
everybody  else  in  this  house.  (Looking  at  him 
zvith  more  interest,  puts  dowji   music.     He  laughs 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  6i 

three  times.     Peg  laughs  zvith  him,   then   goes   to 
him)     Say,  who  are  ye  at  all? 

Jerry.     No  one  in  particular. 

'Peg.    Well,  I  can  see  that.     I  mean,  what  do  ye 

do?  ,.  ,•    t 

Jerry.      {On   table   r.    c.)      Everything   a   little 

and   nothing   really   well.      I   was   a   soldier   for   a 

while,  then  I  took  a  splash  at  doctoring ;  read  law ; 

civil-engineered  in  South  America  for  a  year — now 

I'm  farming. 

Peg.     (r.  by  table)     Ye're  a  farmer? 

Jerry.     Yes. 

Peg.      (Laughs)     Where's  your  whiskers? 

Jerry.  I'm  a  new  farmer.  (Laughs)  To  sum 
up  my  career,  I  can  do  a  whole  lot  of  things  fairly 
well,  and  none  of  them  well  enough  to  brag  about. 

Peg.     Like  my  father,  that  is. 

Terry.     You  flatter  me. 

"Peg.  I  know  I  flatter  you.  There's  not  a  man 
in  the  whole  world  like  my  father. 

Jerry.     No.     Of  course  not. 

Peg.  No.  Not  one  man  in  the  wdiole  world,  there 
isn't.  (Pause,  she  goes  round  to  back  of  table  c. 
Jerry  gets  r.  of  table)  But  he  says  he's  a  rolling 
stone,  and  they  don't  amount  to  much  in  a  hard- 
hearted world  that's  all  for  making  dollars. 

Jerry.  Your  father's  right.  Money  is  the 
standard  to-day,  and  we're  ail  valued  by  it. 

Peg.  Yes.  And  he's  got  none.  (Pause)  But 
he  has  got  me.  (Pause.  Looks  ruefully  all  round, 
then  gets  up  resolutely)  I'm  goin'  right  back  to 
him  now.     (Crosses  to  foot  of  stairs) 

Jerry.  No,  no.  [Round  back  of  table  to  riCzcel 
post) 

Peg.  (On  tJiird  step)  I  must.  Sure,  it's  easier 
to  suft'er  the  want  of  food  than  the  want  of  love. 
(Pause.  Imitates  her  father,  banging  nezvel  post. 
Jerry  starts   back)      "And   that's   wliat   the   Irish 


6j  peg  O'  my  heart 

are  doing  all  over  the  world.  They're  driven  from 
their  own  country.  They're  made  wanders  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  and'nothin'  they  ever  earn":l 
make  up  to  them  for  the  separation  from  their 
homes  and  from  their  loved  ones."  (Jerry  laughs) 
Do  you  know  what  that  is? 

Jerry.  (Shakes  his  head)  I  haven't  the  slightest 
idea. 

Peg.     That's  one  of  my  father's  speeches. 

Jerry.    One  of  his  speeches  ? 

Peg.     ?>Iy  father  makes  grand  speeches. 

Jerry.     Does  he? 

Peg.    He  makes  them  in  the  cause  of  Ireland. 

Jerry.  (Smiles.  Comes  to  nei^'el  post)  In  the 
cause  of  Ireland? 

Peg.  Yes.  Tvly  mother  died  when  I  was  a  little 
baby,  and  my  father  brought  me  back  to  Ireland. 
I  lived  there  all  my  life  till  two  months  ago,  when 
he  had  to  go  back  to  New  York,  and  they  sent  for 
me  to  come  here.  I  went  all  through  Ireland  with 
my  father  on  his  lecture  tours.  We  had  a  cart.  We 
traveled  from  place  to  place  in  the  cart.  He  made 
his  speeches  from  the  tail  of  it,  and  we  lived  in  the 
middle.  My  father  practised  all  of  his  speeches  on 
me  first. 

Ji:rry.     Oh,  did  he? 

Peg.     I  know  fiftv  of  them  bv  heart. 

Jek'RY.    Fifty? 

Peg.  Yes.  I'm  going  to  recite  them  all  to  Mrs. 
Chichester.  She'll  be  very  pleased.  Nice  old  lady, 
she  is. 

Jerry.    Very  nice. 

Peg.  Full  of  fun.  (They  both  laugh  )  I  tell  vou 
I'm  not  used  to  sour  face's.  My  father's  full'  of 
jokes.  I'm  lost  without  my  father.  I  get  very 
lonesome  without  him.  I'm  going  back  to  him,  too. 
(She  goes  upstairs) 

Jerry.     (Folloi<'iug  lier  and  leaning  orer  halus- 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  63 

trade)  Wait!  Think!  Just  give  us  one  month's 
trial.  One  month.  It's  very  little  out  of  your  life, 
and  I  promise  you  your  father  will  not  suffer  by  it, 
except  in  losing  you  for  that  one  little  month. 
(Pause)     Will  you?    Please  do.    Just  a  month? 

Peg.  (Coming  dozen  to  bottom  step)  ^^'hy  co 
you  want  mic  to  stay  here? 

Jerry.  Because — because  your  uncle  was  my 
friend.  It  was  his  last  wish  to  do  something  for 
you.     (Pause)     Will  you?     Just  a  month? 

Peg.     Not  any  more  than  a  month. 

Jerry.     Not  unless  you  wish  it. 

Peg.  All  right.  I  don't  suppose  Til  mind  a 
month.  It's  going  to  seem  like  a  lifetime  in  this 
place.     (Coming  dozen  l.) 

Jerry.  I'm  glad.  (Dozen  into  l.  c,  level  zvith 
her) 

Peg.     Glad  it's  going  to  seem  like  a  lifetime? 

Jerry.  (Smiling)  No.  That  you're  going  to 
stay. 

Peg.  (Crossing  r.  to  r.  c.)  That's  a  comfort 
anyway.  Some  one  in  the  house'll  be  pleased  at 
my  stayin' — (Pause) 

Jerry.     (Follozeing  her)     I  am — immensely. 

Peg.     Yes.     I  heard  you  say  it. 

Jerry.  (Nearer  to  her)  And  will  you  look  on 
me  as  your  friend? 

Peg.  (Looks  at  him  quickly,  then  moves  azvay 
R.)     I  don't  know  who  you  are,  do  I  ? 

Jerry.     (Pollozuing)     Is  it  so  difficult? 

Peg.  I  don't  know  at  all.  I  don't  know  whether 
it's  difficult  or  not  till  I  thry  it.     (Goes  azvay  r.) 

Jerry.     (Follozving  Peg)     Try. 

Peg.    I  don't  understand  you.  " 

Jerry.    Yet  I'm  very  simple. 

Peg.  Devil  doubt  that.  (Crosses  to  r.  corner, 
sits  in  high  chair,  sees  he  is  quite  near  her)    \Miere 


64  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

do  you  think  you'll  go  now?  (Jerry  holds  out  his 
hand)     What''s  that ^f or? 

Jerry.    To  our  friendship. 

Peg.  I  never  met  anybody  like  you  in  all  my  life 
before.     (Looks  at  Jiis  hand) 

Jerky.     Shake  hands  on  it. 

Peg.     I   don't  think   it's   necessary. 

Jerry.     Do. 

Peg.  I  don't  shake  hands  with  every  Tom,  Dick 
and  Harry  I  meet. 

Jerry.    Come. 

Peg.     Queer  fish,  you  are.     {Gives  her  Junid) 

Jerry.     (Holds  if)     Friends? 

Peg.    Not  yet.    Not  so  fast. 

Jerry.     Pll  wager  we  will  be. 

Peg.    Don't  put  much  on  it.    Ye  might  lose. 

Jerry.     Pll  stake  my  life  on  it. 

Peg.     Ye  don't  value  it  much,  then. 

Jerry.  More  than  I  did.  (Peg  looks  at  Jii::i) 
?.Iay  you  be  very  happy  here,  Peg. 

(Door  slaui.) 

Peg.  (Crosses  and  runs  upstairs.  Jerry  zvatchcs 
her  in  amazement)  Don't  tell  anybody  you  saw  me 
down  in  this  room.  (She  turns  to  go,  meets  Ethel 
at  top  of  stairs,  turns  eomes  do2cnstairs,  meets  Mrs. 
Chichester  and  Alaric  entering  door  l.  She 
turns  completely  round,  and  finally  sits  at  bottom  of 
stairs) 

(^Irs.  Chichester  goes  c.  to  Jerry,  zcJw  shakes 
hands  icith  Jicr.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  So  sorry  wc  were  out. 
You'll  stay  to  lunch? 

Jerry.  It's  what  I  came  for.  (Mrs.  Chichester 
crosses  to  r.    Jerry  shakes  hands  with  Ethel,  zcho 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  65 

also  goes  doivn  r.  to  her  mother,  telling  her  that 
Peg  is  on  the  stairs) 

Alaric.  (Crosses  to  l.  c.  Slouches  over  to 
Jerry,  who  meets  him  l.  c.)     What  ho!    Jerry! 

Jerry.  (Slips  his  arm  through  Alaric's  and 
takes  him  to  zvindozvs,  seeing  Peg  on  stairs  in  pass- 
ing)    I  sav,  Al,  your  cousin's  adorable. 

Alaric.'  What? 

Jerry.      Simply   adorable. 

(They  talk  by  zvindoivs.) 
Alaric.     Oh,  I  say,  adorable ! 

(Ethel  points  out  Peg  to  Mrs.  Chichester,  then 
sits  on  piano-stool.) 

Mrs.  Chichester  .  Margaret !  Margaret ! 
(Mrs.  Chichester  looks  round  at  nezvel  post  and 
Peg  comes  out  and  goes  to  Mrs.  Chichester) 
Who  gave  you  permission  to  come  in  here  ? 

Peg.     No  one  at  all.    J  just  walked  in. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Go  to  your  room  and  stay 
there  until  I  give  you  leave  to  come  out. 

Peg.  (Passionately)  Sure,  if  this  house  is  goin^ 
to  be  a  prison  Em  going  back  to  my  father. 

(Lunch  gong  l.) 

Alaric.  (Coming  down  r.  c.)  There  we  are' 
Lunch,  everyone ! 

Jerry.  (Corning  dozvn  l.  c.)  At  last!  Em 
starving ! 

Peg.    So  am  L    I  haven't  had  a  bite  since  six. 

Jerry.     (Offering  Peg  his  arm)     Allow  me. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  My  niece  is  tired  after  her 
journey.     She  v/ill  lunch  in  her  room. 

Peg.  Em  not  a  bit  tired,  and  Ed  rather  have 
lunch  down  here  with  ]\'Ir.  Jerry. 


66  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Alaric.    Oh,  I  say, — Mr.  Jerry! 

Jerry.  And  so  you  shall  have  lunch  with  Mr. 
Jerry.  Come  along — let  us  lead  the  way.  {Goes 
off  ivith  Peg  on  his  arm,  Peg  looking  hack  impishly 
at  the  others  and  then  smiling  up  at  Jerry) 

Peg.  I'm  not  so  sure  about  that  wager  of  yours. 
I  think  your  life  is  safe.  I  want  to  tell  ye  ye  saved 
my  life.  I'm  so  hungry  my  soul  is  hanging  by  a 
thread. 

Slow  curtain 

IvIrs.  Chichester.  She  must  be  taught,  and  at 
once. 

(ACT  I  plays  sixty-tzvo  minutes.) 


J 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  67 


ACT  II 
"  THE  REBELLION  OF  PEG  ". 

Scene:     A  month  afterwards,    A  July  evening. 

At  rise  of  curtain  Peg  is  discovered  lying  on 
couch  L.  c.  intently  reading  a  large,  hand- 
somely-bound volume.  Jarvis  noiselessly 
shows  in  Brent,  who  is  in  automobile  garb — 
light  overcoat  on,  cap  in  Jmnd — and  exits. 
Brent  puts  coat  and  cap  on  window-scat,  moves 
dozvn  L.  c.  near  couch,  sees  Peg,  and  looks 
down  at  her  as  he  takes  gloves  off.  He  bangs 
glove  on  hand.  Peg  looks  up,  meeting  Brent's 
admiring  gaze. 

Brent.  (Coines  down  r.  of  couch)  It  must  be 
absorbing.  (Peg  shuts  book  and  moves  into  sitting 
position.  She  is  then  seen  to  be  charmingly  gowned, 
her  hair  dressed  a  la  mode)  What's  the  book? 
(Peg  puts  her  hands  over  the  title  and  looks  at  him 
distrustfully.  Brent  zvalks  round  couch,  sits  be- 
side Peg,  smiling  appreciatingly  at  her.  Peg  jumps 
up  and  stands  defiantly,  her  eyes  flashing  angrily) 
You  mustn't  be  angry,  child.  (Points  to  book) 
What  is  it?  Something  forbidden?  {Leering) 
Show  me.  (Holds  out  his  hand.  Peg  smacks  it. 
Peg  crosses  r.  to  r.  corner  of  piano,  puts  book  under 
piano  cover,  and  faces  Brent)  Aha!  A  hiding 
place!  Now  you  make  me  really  curious.  Let  me 
look  at  it.  (Goes  to  her.  Peg  stands  at  bay,  ready 
to  defend  the  identity  of  the  book)  I  love  spirit. 
Why,  what  a  wonderful  change  in  a  month !  You'd 
most  certainly  not  be  sent  to  the  kitchen  nozu. 
(Pause.    He  sits  on  arm  ef  armchair  r.)     Do  you 


68  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

know  vou'vc  -rown  into  a  most  attractive  young 
woman?  (Peg  ejaculates)  Oh,  you  are  really  de- 
lightful when  you're  angry.  And  you  are  angry, 
aren't  you  ?  And  with  me.  Pm  sorry  I  offended  you. 
Let  us  kiss  and  be  friends.  (He  takes  her  left  hand, 
and  as  he  bends  near  her  she  gives  him  a  resounding 
box  on  the  ears.  Brent  gives  a  muffled  ejaculation 
and  tries  to  take  her  in  his  arms.  Enter  Ethel  l. 
Peg,  panting  i^nth  anger,  glares  at  him,  then  rushes 
straight  out  through  arch  k.  u.  e.  Brext  follozus 
her  up  to  k.  u.  e.,  szvings  round,  sees  Ethel,  stops, 
then  goes  to  her  zvith  outstretched  hand,  and  comes 
down  R.  to  front  of  table)     Why,  my  dear  Ethel ! 

Ethel.  {Ignoring  his  hand,  comes  to  c.)  Why 
did  she  run  away? 

Brent,  (To  c.,  smiling  easily  and  confidently) 
Pd  surprised  one  of  her  secrets  and  she  flew  into  a 
temper.    Did  you  see  her  strike  me? 

Ethel.    Secrets  ? 

Brent.  Yes.  Here  we  are.  (Goes  to  r.  of 
piano,  turns  up  piano  cover,  takes  out  book,  opens 
it,  reads)  "  The  Love  Stories  of.  the  W'orld  " — 
**  To  Peg  from  Jerry  ".  Jerry !  Oho  !  No  wonder 
she  didn't  want  me  to  see  it.  (Puts  it  back  and 
covers  it  up)  Jerry,  eh?  (Goes  to  Ethel)  So 
that's  how  the  land  lies !  Romantic  little  chiKl ! 
(To  Ethel)     Now,  Ethel,  I 

Ethel.  (Looking  steadily  at  hii:i)  Why  don't 
you  go  after  her?  (Nodding  in  the  direction  in 
which  Peg  ran) 

Brent.    Ethel ! 

Ethel.     She's  new  and  has  all  the  virtue: 

Brent.    I  assure  you 

Ethel.  You  needn't.  \i  there's  one  thing  .  i 
convinced  of  it's  your  assurance.     (Crosses  r.) 

Brent.     Really,  Ethel 

Ethel.  (Going  r.,  and  silting  in  armc/iair) 
W^erc  you  "carried  azcay"  again? 


PEG  O^  MY  HEART  69 

Brent.    Do  you  think — ? 

Ethel.     Yes.     I  do. 

Brent.  (Hunting  for  an  explanation)  I — I 
don't  know  what  to  say. 

Ethel.     Better  say  nothing. 

Brent,  (c.)  Surely  you're  not  jealous — of  a — 
child? 

Ethel.  (Slozvly)  No.  I  don't  think  it's 
jealousy. 

Brent.    Then  what  is  it? 

Ethel.  (Looking  scornfully  at  him)  Disgusc. 
(Shnigs  her  shoulders  contemptuously)  Now  I 
understand  why  the  kitchen  is  sometinnes  the  rival 
of  the  drawing-room.    The  love  of  change. 

Brent.  (Crosses  l.  c,  and  turns  hack)  This  is 
not  worthy  of  you. 

Ethel.  That  is  what  rankles.  It  isn't.  You're 
not. 

Brent.     (Coming  back)     Ethel 

Ethel.  (Seated  r.  c.)  If  that  ever  happened 
again  I  shoukl  have  to — amputate  you.  (Pause. 
He  turns  up  to  window-scat  for  coat)  Chris! 
(He  turns)  Come  here!  (Brent  comes  back  to 
Jier.  She  smiles)  My  nerves  have  been  tried  this 
past  month. 

Brent.     Poor  Ethel !     (Pause) 

Ethel.  Put  a  mongrel  into  a  kennel  of  thorough- 
breds and  they'll  either  destroy  the  intruder  or  be 
in  a  condition  of  unsettled,  irrita.ting  intolerance. 
(Pause)  That's  exactly  my  coridition.  (Pause) 
I'm  unsettled,  irritable,  intolerant. 

Brent.  (Crosses  to  Ethel)  Then  I  came  in 
time. 

Ethel.  (Smiles  as  she  looks  straight  through 
him)     So  did  I.    Didn't  I  ? 

Brent.  Don't.  Please  don't.  (Crosses  l.,  turns 
away  ) 

Ethel.    Very  well.    I  won't.     (Pause.    He  turns 


70  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

to  her  again)  I'm  sorry,  Chris.  (Pause.  She  looks 
up  at  him)  A  month  ago  it  wouldn't  have  mattered. 
Just  now — it  did.  I'd  rather  looked  forward  to  see- 
ing you.     It's  been  horrible  here. 

Brent.  It's  been  a  month  of  misery  for  me  too. 
P3ut  I'm  going  away — out  of  it — to-morrow. 

Ethel.    Are  you?    Where? 

Brent.  (Taking  stage  to  l.  c.)  Norway — 
oMoscow — Siberia. 

Ethel.    Oh!    The  fo/c?  places !    Going  alone? 

Brent.  (Crosses  r.,  bending  over  Ethel)  Yes. 
Unless  someone  goes  with  me. 

Ethel.    Naturally. 

B  r v.  n  t .    I V ill  }•  ou  go  ? 

Ethel.  (Rises)  I  wish  Vd  been  here  when  you 
called — instead  of  that  brat. 

Brent.     (Turns  a^cay  to  table)     Good  God 

Ethel.  One  doesn't  mind  an  equal  so  much — 
but  that 

Brent.     (Crossing  to  l.)     This  is  unbearable. 

Ethel.  (Crosses  to  c.)  Your  wife  all  over 
again,  eh? 

Brent.  (Coming  down  l.  of  table  to  Ethel  c.) 
No.  I  place  you  far  above  her — above  all  petty 
suspicion  and  carping  narrowness.  1  value  you  as 
a  woman  of  understanding. 

Ethel.  (Meaningly)  I  am.  From  what  you've 
told  me  about  your  wife,  she  is,  too. 

Brent.  (Turns  aivay  distraetedly)  Don't  treat 
me  like  this. 

Ethel.  What  shall  I  do^  (He  looks  at  her) 
Apologize?  That's  odtl.  I've  been  waiting  for 
yours.     (Crosses  to  f^iano) 

Brent.  Oh!  {Moz'es  restlesslx  ai^vy  to  up  l. 
c.) 

(Alaric  hurries  in  -from  l.) 

Alaric.  Hello!  H'areye?  (Shakes  hands  with 
Brent)     Disturbing  you?  ' 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  71 

Brent.     Not  at  all — no. 

Alaric.    The  angel  wife  all  right? 

Brent.    Very  well,  thank  you. 

Alaric.    And  the  darling  child  ? 

Brent.    Quite  well,  thank  you. 

Alaric.  Splendid!  (Crossing  to  Ethel  at  back 
of  table)     Seen  Margaret? 

Ethel.  (Nods  in  direction  of  garden)  Out 
there. 

Alaric.  Mater  wants  her.  Got  to  have  a  family 
meetin'  about  her.  Mater'll  be  here  in  a  minute. 
(To  Brent)  Just  the  family!  (Hurries  out 
through  r.  u.  e.) 

Brent.  (Hurries  to  Ethel  at  back  of  table) 
I'm  at  the  hotel.  I'll  be  there  until  morning.  Send 
me  a  message.  Will  you?  I'll  wait  up  all  night 
for  one.     Will  you? 

Ethel.     (At  piano  r.)     Perhaps,  Chris. 

Brent.  Oh,  I'm  sorry  if  anything  I've  said  or 
done  has  hurt  you. 

Ethel.    Don't  say  any  more. 

Brent.  Oh,  if  you  only — (Ethel  checks  him  as 
door  l.  opens  and  Mrs.  Chichester  enters.  Maid 
comes  downstairs  at  same  moment,  opening  r.  cur- 
tain ) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  How  do  you  do?  (At  l.  c, 
bowing  to  Brent.  Tur7is  to  maid.  Ethel  sits  r. 
c.)    When  did  you  see  my  niece  last? 

(Brent  to  xcindozv-scot,  gets  cap  and  coat.) 

Maid.    Not  this  hour,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Tell  Jarvis  to  search  the 
gardens. 

Maid.    Yes,  ma'am.     (Starts  towards  arch  r.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Comes  to  l.  of  table  c.) 
Tell  Jarvis— (Maid  stops)— to  search  the  stables. 

Maid.    Yes,  ma'am.     (Starts  r.  again) 


72  PEG  O'  I^.IY  HEART 

^Iks.  Chichester.  Tell  Jarvis — (^Iaid  stops) 
— to  look  up  and  clown  the  road. 

]\Iaid.  Yes,  ma'am.  (Exit  arch  r.  u.  e.  Bbext 
comes  doivii  l.  of  Mrs.  Chichester) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {Turning  to  Brent)  For- 
give me,  Mr.  Brent.    I'm  sorry. 

Brent.  Not  at  all.  I'm  just  leaving.  {Crosses 
L.,  bows  to  her,  shakes  hands) 

r^lRS.  Chichester.    Oh,  you  needn't 

Brent.  {Going  towards  door  l.)  I'm  going 
abroad  to-morrow.     I  just  called  to  say  good-bye. 

?^Irs.  Chichester.  I  trust  you  and  Mrs.  Brent 
win  have  a  very  pleasant  trip. 

Brent.     Thank  you.     {Passes  out  l.) 

(Ai.ARic   re-enters   through   r.   u.   e.      Ethel  sits 
armchair  r.) 

Alaric.  Not  a  sign  of  ^largaret  anywhere. 
(Comes  dozvn  r.,  fanning  Jiiniself  with  his  hand- 
kerchief) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  This  cannot  go  on.  {Sits  l. 
of  table) 

Alaric.  {Sits  r.  of  table)  I  should  think  not, 
indeed. 

AIrs.  Chichester.  Mr.  Hawkes  writes  that  he 
will  call  to-morrow  for  his  first  report.  {Seated  L. 
of  table)     What  am  I  to  tell  him? 

Alaric.  (r.  of  table)  What  zi'ill  you?  (Jarvis 
and  Maid  enter  r.  u.  e.,  and  cross  sloz^'Iy  to  l.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Am  I  to  tell  him  that  every 
tutor  I've  engaged  for  her  has  resigned?  That  no 
maid  will  stay  with  her?    Am  I  to  tell  him  that? 

Alaric.  Serve  her  jolly-well  right  if  vou  did. 
Eh,  Ethel  ? 

Ethel.    It  would. 
^  Maid.    I've  searched  everywhere,  ma'am.     Not  a 
sign  of  her. 


PEG  O*  MY  HEART  73 

Jarvis.  Not  in  the  stables  nor  up  or  down  the 
road.     And  the  dog's  missing. 

Ethel.     Pet  ? 

Jarvis.  No,  not  Pet,  Miss.  She's  gnawing  a 
bone  on  the  lawn.     The  other — Michael. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  That  will  do.  (Exeunt 
Jarvis  and  Maid  l.  i  e.)     Where  is  she? 

Alaric.     Heavens  knows. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  If  only  I  could  throw  the 
whole  business  up ! 

Alaric.  Wish  to  goodness  we  could.  But  the 
monthly  cheque  will  be  useful  to-morrow,  Mater. 
Let's  give  the  little  beggar  another  month  of  it.  Let 
her  off  lightly  this  time,  and  the  moment  the  lawyer- 
bird's  gone  read  her  the  Riot  x\ct.  Pull  her  up  with 
a  jerk.     Ride  her  on  the  curb,  and  no  rot. 

(Suddenly  through  the  open,  "ci'lndoz^'s  conies  the 
sound  of  t-ii'o  dogs  barking  furiously  and 
snapping  at  each  other.) 

(DOG  FIGHT) 

Ethel.  Pet !  (Jumps  up  and  hurries  out  through 
arch  R.  u.  E.  Alaric  and  j\Irs.  Chichester  go  to 
ivindozvs-  c.) 

AIrs.  Chichester.     Margaret ! 

Alaric.  (Up  at  windoiv  c,  lifting  the  curtain) 
And  the  mongrel !  She's  urging  him  on.  The 
terrier's  got  Pet  now,  (Calling)  Fight  him,  old 
girl!  Maul  him!  Whoa  there!  Pet's  down. 
There's  Ethel  on  the  scene. 

I\Irs.  Chichester.    Go  and  separate  them. 

Alaric.  Not  me.  Pll  talk  to  'em.  Stop  it !  Stoo 
it  now,  when  I  tell  you !  Ethel  can  handle  'em.  I 
hate  the  little  brutes — all  hair  and  teeth.  (Coming 
doivn  R.)  Can't  understand  women  coddling  those 
little  masses  of  snarling,  smelly  wool. 


74  PEG  O'  MY  PIEART 

{The  sound  stops.  Ethel  enters,  flnsJh\l  ..... 
angry,  soothing  the  ruffled  Pet.  She  goes  dozi'n 
to  e'oueh.  A  little  later  Peg  enters  zi'ith  tJic 
z'ietorious  Michael  in  her  arms.  She  has  a 
roguish  lock  of  triumph  in  her  eyes.  SJie,  too, 
is  flushed  and  excited,  and  follozvs  Ethel  to 
bench.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {Angrily)  Take  that  animal 
out  of  the  room. 

Peg,  (Goes  over  to  r.)  Come  on,  Ethel.  Let 
him  finish  it. 

]\Irs.  Chichester.  Take  that  doq  out  of  the 
room!  (Peg  turns  and  zvalks  out  into  the  garden. 
j\Ies.  Chichester  comes  to  front  of  table  and  lets 
her  get  some  distance  away)  Margaret !  Margaret ! 
{Pause)    Come  here!    Do  you  hear  mc? 

Peg.  {Outside.  Without  moving)  Can  ^lichael 
come  in? 

]\Irs.  Chichester.  You  come  in,  and  leave  that 
brute  outside.  {Pause)  At  once!  {Comes  doz^ni 
into  c.) 

Peg.  {Leaves  Michael  outside  arch  r.  u.  e.,  and 
comes  dozvn  to  ]\Irs.  Chichester)  I  think  it's  the 
silliest  thing,  this  class-distinction  between  dogs. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Where  have  you  been? 

(Alaric  comes  down  to  armchair  r.) 

Peg.     {Dotvn  r.)     Down  to  the  seashore. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     And  why? 

Peg.  I  wanted  to  give  Michael  a  swim.  The  tide 
was  high,  but  he  wouldn't  go  in. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  You  took  Michael  down  to 
the  seashore  in  that  dress  ? 

(Peg  looks  down  at  it.) 
Peg.    No.    He  wasn't  in  this  dress. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  75 

?^,Irs.  Chichester.  Look  at  your  hair,  all  over 
your  eyes.    What  do  you  think  zvill  become  of  you? 

Peg.'  I  have  hopes  of  Heaven,  like  all  the 
Catholics. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Despairingly,  to  Alartc  and 
Ethel)  I  give  it  up.  (Crosses  to  couch  and  sits 
beside  Ethel) 

Alartc.     I  should  say  so. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Is  it  that  you  don't  wish  to 
imnrove?    Is  it  that? 

Peg.  I'll  tell  you  what  /  think  it  is.  I  think — 
(Gets  chair  l.  of  table,  brings  if  dozvn,  and  sits  c.) 
-^there's  a  devil  in  me  some  place,  and  every  now 
and  again  he  pops  out. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    A  devil? 

Peg.     (Demurely)     Yes,  Aunt. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  How  dare  you  use  such  a 
v/ord  to  me? 

Peg.  I  didn't.  T  used  it  to  myself.  I  don't  know 
whether  there's  a  devil  in  you  or  not.  I  don't  th'nk 
there  is. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  To-morrow  Mr.  Hawkes  will 
call  for  his  first  report  on  you.  (Peg  laughs  sud- 
denh,  then  checks  herself)  And  zvhy  did  vou  do 
that? 

Peg.  I  just  had  a  picture  of  what  you're  goin' 
to  tell  him. 

PvIrs.  Chichester.  Your  manners  are  aborain- 
aiye. 

Peg.    Yes,  Aunt. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  What  am  I  to  tell  ]\Ir. 
Hawkes  ? 

Peg.  I'd  tell  him  the  truth  and  shame  the — 
devil.     I  would. 

]\Irs.  Chichester.  Oh !  Don't  you  wish  to  re- 
main here? 

Peg.    Sometimes  I  do.    Sometimes  I  don't. 


yd  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Don't  I  do  everything  pos- 
sible for  you? 

Peg.     Yes.     You  do  everything  possible  \o  me — 

^Irs.  Chichester.    What? 

Peg.    ror  me.     (Singiug)     For  me. 

]Mrs.  Chichester.  Why  do  you  constantly  dis- 
obey me? 

Peg.     1  suppose  it's  the  original  sin  in  me. 

j\Irs.  Chichester.     What? 

Alaric.  {Sitting  on  armchair  r.)  Oh,  I  say,  you 
know  !     Original  sin !     Ha  !     Ha  !     Ha  ! 

Peg.  Ha  1  Ha !  Ha !  I  never  know  whether 
he's  laughing  or  coughing.  {Catches  2^Irs.  Chi- 
chester's eye,  and  stops)  \Mienever  I  did  any- 
thin'  wilful  or  disturbin'  at  home  my  father  always 
said  to  me  "  Now,  Peg,  that  is  the  original  sin  in  ye, 
and  ye're  not  to  be  punished,  because  ye  can't  help 
it."  And  then  he  used  to  punish  himself  for  what 
I  did,  and  when  I  saw  how  it  hurt  him  I  wouldn't 
do  it  any  more.  Now,  I  think  that  was  a  grand  way 
to  raise  a  daughter,  and  I  did  have  an  idea  that  an 
aunt  might  be  very  successful  if  she  tried  to  raise  a 
niece  that  way.  (Mrs.  Chichester  looks  at  her) 
Ye  see,  if  you  were  to  punish  yourself  for  what  I 
do — (Mrs.  Chichester  stares  at  her) — I  might  be 
sorry.  But,  then,  of  course  1  might  not,  and  that 
would  be  very  hard  on  you.  Ye  see,  I  can't  tell 
about  myself. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Your  father  must  have  been 
a  very  bad  influence  on  you. 

Peg.  {Hotly)  My  father's  the  best  man  in  all 
the  world. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Margaret! 

Peg.  {Sitllenly,  looking  dozen)  There  was  never 
a  man  on  earth  as  good  as  my  father.  H  more 
girls  had  fathers  born  to  them  as  good  as  my  father 
there'd  be  less  trouble  in  this  world. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  y-] 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Haven't  I  told  you  never  to 
contradict  me? 

Peg.  Well,  you  contradict  me  all  the  time.  It's 
not  fair  if  it  doesn't  vv^ork  both  w^ays. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Margaret ! 

Peg.  I  want  to  tell  you  I'd  have  a  much  sweeter 
disposition  if  you  wouldn't  talk  against  my  father. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Really,  Margaret! 

Peg.  I  don't  mind  scolding — that  has  no  effect  on 
me  whatever. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Margaret! 

Peg.  I'm  surprised  at  you,  I  am.  You  know  I'm 
mad  about  my  father,  and  you  should  respect  my 
feelings  about  him.  I  respect  your  feelings  about 
Alaric,  don't  I? 

(Alaric  rises  and  goes  round  baek  to  l.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Stop! 

Peg.  I'd  like  to  know  who  would  have  fed  and 
clothed  me  ail  these  years 

Mrs.  Cpiichester.     Stop ! 

Peg.  It  makes  me  furious  when  you  talk  against 
my  father. 

j\Irs.  Chichester.  Stop  !  (Peg  opens  her  mouth 
to  begin  again)     Stop! 

Peg.  All  right.  I've  stopped.  (Rises,  puts  ehair 
baek,  and  goes  round  to  r.  of  table  c.)  I'll  wipe  out 
the  whole  of  the  Chichester  family  the  next  time  you 
talk  against  my   father,   and   that's  mv  last   word. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (To  Ethel)  Oh,  it's  hope- 
less. (Rises  to  c.)  If  I  consent  to  take  charge  of 
you  for  another  period  will  you  promise  me"  you 
will  do  your  best  to  show  some  advancement  during 
the  next  month? 

Peg.     (c,  level  zuith  her)     Yes,  Aunt. 

Mrs.  Chichester,  (c.)  And  if  I  get  fresh 
tutors  for  you  will  you  try  to  keep  them? 


jS  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Pkg.    Yes.     I  will. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {To  Alaric,  idio  has  gone 
round  hack  during  foregoing,  and  is  nou  seated  on 
bench  by  Ethel)     What  do  you  think? 

Alaric.    We  might  risk  it,  eh,  Ethel? 

Ethel.     Don't  ask  me. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Very  well.  Begin  now.  Get 
your  books. 

(Jarvis  enters.) 

Peg.  Yes,  Aunt.  (Hurriedly  gets  three  books 
from  piano  and  comes  back  to  table  c.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.     (To  Jarvis)    Well? 

Jarvis.  A  letter  for  Miss  Chichester.  {Hands 
it  to  Ethel)  By  hand,  Miss.  No  answer.  (Ethel 
fakes  it  unconcernedly,  opens  it  and  reads.  Jarvis 
toivards  door  l.    Peg  slams  book) 

Mrs.  Chichester.     (Starts)     Oh! 

Peg.  I  beg  yer  pardon.  It  shllpped  out  of  mv 
fist. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Fist! 

Peg.  (Calls)  Jarvis!  Michael's  outside.  He's 
had  a  fight.  Pll  be  very  much  obliged  if  you'll  put 
him  to  bed  for  me,  please. 

Jarvis.    Yes,  Miss.     (Exit  through  r.  u.  e.) 

Peg.     That's  a  nice  boy,  Jarvis. 

Alaric.     Boy,  Ethel! 

Mrs.  Chichester,  (l.  of  table  c.)  Who's  that 
from,  Ethel? 

Ethel.     (Rising)     Mr.  Brent. 

(Peg  listens.) 

Alaric.     What  on  earth  docs  Jie  want? 
Ethel.     Jle  wants  me  to  do  something  for  him. 
Alakic.    Do  something? 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  79 

Ethel.  Yes.  I'll  answer  it  here.  (Crosses  over 
to  7vr:tiiin-desk,  sits,  and  'Zi'rites) 

I\Irs.  CHiciiESTEn.  (To  Peg)  Margaret!  Now, 
stivdy  for  a  little  while.  And  do  try  to  keep  your 
hair  out  of  vour  eves.     (Biisir.ess  zvith  curls) 

'^::c.    Yes,  Aunt. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Come,  Alaric.  (Alaric  rises 
and  crosses  to  l.  of  table.    Mrs.  Chichester  goes 

out  L.) 

Alaric.  [To  Peg)  Original  sin,  eh?  That's  a 
good  one ! 

Peg.  I  knew  you  would  be  the  one  to  think  it  was 
good. 

Alaric.  Study  all  the  pretty  maps.  (Leans  over 
her)     What's  the  population  of  Turkey? 

Peg.  There's  going  to  be  one  less  in  England 
one  day.  (Picks  up  hook,  grimaces,  and  looks 
threateningly  at  him) 

Alaric^  (Starts  back)    Little  devil ! 

Peg.  He's  tuggin'  at  me  now.  The  little  dev!l 
hates  knowledge.  He  always  tries  to  stop  me  gettin' 
any  of  it. 

Alaric.  (Laughs)  Ha!  Ha!  (Glances  across 
at  Ethel)  Study  your  cousin.  Model  yoursel* 
on  Ethel.  Imitate  her,  eh,  what?  (Hurries  to 
door.  Peg  runs  after  him  with  hook.  Exit  l.  as 
she  almost  throzus  book  at  him.  As  Peg  turns  bar'- 
from  door  he  pops  his  head  hack  into  room,  and 
laughs)  Little  devil!  TPeg  goes  for  him  again, 
hut  lie  shuts  door  again  in  time,  and  escapes) 

(Peg  goes  to  fable  and  sits  watching  Ethel,  ivli  ^ 
finishes  her  note,  takes  cigarette,  and  lights 
match.  Imitating  Ethel,  Peg  puts  dozvn  he:- 
book,  takes  cigarette  and  lights  match.  Ethel 
sees  Peg  imitating  her,  gives  impatient  ejacula- 
tion, throws  unlighted  cigarette  on  asJi-tray,  and 


8o  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

blozvs  out  match.    Peg,  still  iuiitatiuj  her,  d.jcs 
saiiic.) 

Ethel.     (Rising)     Why  do  you  v/atch  me? 

Peg.  (Rising)  Aren't  you  my  model?  (His- 
chievoiislv.  To  front  of  table.  Ethel  turns  czcay 
anr/rily  and  starts  upstairs.  Peg  goes  to  he?') 
Ethel!  I  was  only  fooling.  I  was  trying  to  have 
some  fun.  I  was  only  trying  to  make  you  laugh. 
I  want  to  talk  to  you. 

Ethel.  (Going  up  tz^'o  stairs)  You  were  told 
to  study. 

Peg.  (Comes  to  nezcel-post.  Pause)  Ye  know 
we  are  both  girls  in  the  same  house,  of  the  same 
family,  pretty  much  of  the  same  age,  and  you've 
never  said  a  kind  word  to  me  since  I've  been  here. 
Ye  like  your  dog  better  than  me,  don't  ye?  (Ethel 
fondles  Pet)  Vm  sorry  Michael  hurt 'him.  It  was 
my  fault.    I  set  him  on  to  do  it. 

Ethel.  (Coming  dozvn  to  foot  of  stairs,  turns 
to  her)     You? 

Peg.  (At  post  hack  of  table,  nods)  I  thought  it 
was  a  rabbit  at  a  distance.  If  a  dog  has  got  to  be  a 
dog  it  should  be  made  to  look  like  a  dog.  Ye'd 
know  that  Michael  was  a  dog.  (Ethel  turns  up- 
stairs again)  Ethel!  I  don't  want  to  talk  about 
dogs.  Won't  ye  make  friends  with  me?  I  want  to 
ask  ye  something. 

Ethel.  (Goes  up  to  yd  stair)  We  have  noth- 
ing in  common. 

Peg.  That  doesn't  prevent  us  being  decent  to 
each  other. 

Ethel.     (Pause)     Decent? 

Peg.  I'll  meet  ye  threequarters  of  the  way  if  ye'Il 
only  show  one  generous  feeling  toward  me. 
(Pause)  Ye  would  if  ye  knew  what  was  in  my 
mind. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  8i 

Etttel.  (Goes  to  foot  of  stairs)  You're  a 
Gtrnnre  creature. 

]'eg.  (Crossing  to  R.  c.)  You've  got  us  mixed 
up.  I'm  not  the  stranc:e  one.  Fin  just  what  I  am. 
T don't  want  to  he  anythin'  else.  But  you,  all  of 
y.\  nrc  tryin';-  to  be  somethin'  different  from  what 
ye  are. 

Ethel,     (l.  of  table)     What  do  you  mean? 

Peg.  (By  onuchair  r.  of  tabic)  I  watch  ye  and 
listen  to  ye.  Ye  turn  yer  face  to  the  world  as  much 
as  to  say  "  Aren't  I  the  easy-j;oin',  sweet-tempered, 
calm  young  lady  ?  "  And  ye're  not  quite  that,  are 
ye? 

Ettiel.     What  am  I?     (Sits  l.  of  table) 

Peg.  (Sits  r.  of  table)  Of  course,  ye've  got  the 
breedin'  and  the  beautiful  manners,  but  up  in  yer 
head  and  down  in  yer  heart  you  worry  your  soul 
all  the  time.  And  ye  have  a  temper.  And  it's  a 
beautiful  temper.  It's  a  shame  for  ye  not  to  let  it 
out  in  the  daylight  so  that  everyone  can  see  it.  But 
ye  can't,  can  ye?  Because  it's  not  good  form.  And 
with  all  yer  fine  advantages  ye're  not  very  happy, 
are  ye?  (Ethel  turns  her  head  azvay  and  dozvn) 
Are  ye,  dear? 

Ethel.     (Slozvly)     No.    I'm  not. 

Peg.  Nayther  am  I  in  this  house.  (Pause) 
Couldn't  we  thry  to  comfort  each  other?  (Crosses 
to  Ethel  at  table) 

Ethel.     Comfort?     You? 

Peg.  Sure,  a  kindly  impulse  gives  ye  a  warm 
feelin'  around  the  heart,  so  they  say.  And  ye'd  have 
it  if  yc'd  only  be  a  little  kind  to  me. 

Ethel.  (Rises,  moved  in  spite  of  herself)  I'm 
afraid  I  have  been  a  little  inconsiderate. 

Peg.     Ye  have. 

Ethel.     What  would  you  like  me  to  do? 

Peg.  I'd  like  ye  to  spake  to  me  as  if  I  were  a 
human  bein',  and  not  a  c'od  of  earth. 


82  PEG  O'  .AIY  HEART 

Ethel.    Very  well,  Margaret,  I  will. 

Peg.  (c.)  Thank  ye  very  much.  {Etiill  utoz'cs 
to  go.  Peg  moves  up,  too)  Ethel!  I'd  like  very 
much  io  ask  ye  something  else. 

Ethel.  (Tuniinn  back)  What  is  it?  {Comes 
bo^k  to  L.  of  table) 

Peg.  (Close  to  Ethel)  Do  ye  know  anything 
about  love? 

Ethel.     (Asto;iished)     Love? 

Peg.    Plave  ye  ever  been  in  love? 

Ethel.  {Puts  letter  slozvly  behi)iJ  her  back) 
No. 

Peg.    HaA'e  ye  ever  thought  about  it? 

Ethel.     Yes. 

Peg.  {Turns  to  Ethel.  Eagerly)  What  do  ye 
think  about  it? 

Ethel.  Rot!  {Comes  dozvii  to  front  of  bend:, 
looks  at  letter) 

Peg.     {Following  her  dozen)     Rot,  is  it? 

Ethel.  {Sits  on  bench)  Sentimental  nonsense 
that  exists  only  in  novels. 

Peg.  {Excitedly)  Ye're  wrong.  It's  the  most 
wonderful  thing  in  the  world.  To  love  a  good  man 
who  loves  you.  A  man  who  made  ye  hot-and-cold, 
burnin'  like  fire  one  minute,  and  freezin'  like  ice  the 
next.  \Vho  made  yer  heart  leap  with  happiness 
when  he  came  near  ye,  and  ache  with  sorrow  when 
he  went  away  from  ye.     Haven't  ye  ever  felt  that? 

Ethel.    Never. 

Peg.  Oh !  It's  mighty  disturbin',  so  it  is.  {Sits 
beside  Ethel)  One  day  ye  walk  on  air,  and  the 
next  yer  feet  are  like  lead.  One  day  the  world's 
all  beautiful  flowers  and  sweet  music  and  sunshine, 
and  the  next  day  it's  all  cofilns  and  corpses.  {Shak- 
ing her  head)     It's  mighty  disturbin',  so  it  is 

Ethel.    IIow  do  you  know  all  this? 

Peg.  (Hurriedly)  1  read  about  it  in  a  great, 
big  book. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  83 

Ethel.  When  you're  a  little  older  you'll  think 
differently.     You'll   realize   it's   all   very   primitive. 

Peg.     Primitive? 

Ethel.    Of  the  earth,  earthy. 

Peg.     (Suddenly)     Don't  you  hke  men? 

Ethel.     Not  much. 

Peg.     (r.  cud  of  couch)     Just  dogs? 

Ethel,  (l.  end  of  couch)  You  can  trust  them. 
{Caresses  Pet) 

Peg.  I  like  dogs,  too.  But  I  like  children  very 
much  better.  (Suddenly)  Wouldn't  ye  like  to  have 
a  child  of  yer-own? 

Ethel.      (Horrified)      Really,   Margaret! 

Peg.  Well,  I  would.  And  that's  the  woman  in 
us.  Ye  only  fondle  that  thing — {Pointing  to  Pet) 
— because  ye  haven't  got  a  chick  to  call  yer  own. 
All  the  selfish  women  have  dogs.  They're  afraid  to 
have  children.  I  like  dogs,  too.  They're  all  very 
well  in  their  way,  but  sure  they  can't  laugh  to  ye, 
and  cry  to  ye,  and  com.fort  ye,  like  a  babv  can. 
(Points  to  Pet)  Ye  know,  that  thing  could  never  be 
President  of  the  United  States.  But  if  ye  had  a 
child  he  might  grow  up  to  be  President. 

Ethel.     That's  very  Irish. 

Peg.  It's  very  human,  too.  I  wish  you  were  a 
little  more  Irish.  I  think  we'd  get  along  better,  I 
do. 

Ethel.  (Rises  and  crosses  c.)  It  is  not  cus- 
tomary for  girls  to  talk  about  such  things. 

Peg.  I  know  it  isn't,  and  I  can't  understand  why 
we  shouldn't  discuss  events  of  national  importance. 
I  know  it's  not  customary.  We  think  about  them — 
why  can't  we  talk  about  them?  If  there  was  more 
honesty  in  the  world  there  would  be  less  sin. 

Ethel.     Please,  Margaret.     (Turning) 

Peg.  (Rises  and  crosses  to  Ethel  c.)  Now,  let 
2is  be  honest  with  each  other. 


84  PEG  O^  xMY  HEART 

Ethel.    What  do  you  mean? 

Peg.     You  like  ^.Ir.  Brent,  don't  ye? 

Ethel.  (Instinctively  [^uts  letter  behind  her  bock) 
Certainly,  I  do.  He's  a  very  old  friend  of  the 
family. 

Peg.    He  has  a  wife? 

Ethel.     He  has. 

Peg.    He  has  a  baby? 

Ethel.    Well ! 

Peg.  Of  course,  Pve  never  seen  them.  Pie  never 
brings  them  along  with  him  when  he  calls  on  you, 
but  ye'd  know  he  had  'em  if  ye  ever  heard  Alaric 
ask  after  'em. 

Ethel.     What  of  that? 

Peg.  Is  it  customary  for  English  husbands  wi'Lii 
babies  to  kiss  other  women — (Ethel  tiiriis  on  Iter) 
\\'eil,  let  us  say,  to  kiss  other  women's  hands? 

Ethel.  {Pause.  Checks  her  anger)  It  is  a  very 
old  and  very  respected  custom. 

Peg.  Devil  doubt  it  but  it's  old.  P'm  not  so  sure 
about  the  respect.  Why  doesn't  he  kiss  my  aunt 
when  he  comes  to  this  house  ? 

Ethel.  Oh!  You  don't  understand.  {Crosses 
to  foot  of  stairs) 

1*EG.    I  know  I  don't,  but  Pm  trying  to. 

Ethel.  {At  foot  of  stairs)  1  suppose  it  is  too 
much  to  expect  that  a  child  of  the  common  people 
should  understand  the  customs  of  decent  people. 

Peg.  Why  should  the  common  people  have  all 
the  decency  and  why  should  the  aristocracy  have 
none  of  the  decency.  (Ethel  goes  to  stairs  and  up 
tzvo  steps.  Peg,  at  foot  of  stairs,  looks  at  her) 
Don't  get  mad.  I  didn't  mean  it.  Pve  heard  my 
father  say  that  in  one  of  his  speeches,  and  it  cr.:;:e 
to  my  tongue  first  thing. 

Ethel.  {Up  yd  stair,  indignantly)  Oh!  Be 
good  enough  never  to  speak  to  me  again  as  long  as 
you're  in  this  house.     {Enter  Jakvis)     H  I  had  my 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  85 

way  you'd  leave  it  this  moment.  As  it  is — as  it  is — 
(Looks  at  letter.  Peg  to  front  of  table.  Jarvis  l., 
shozvs  in  Jerry,  zvho  is  in  evening-dress,  light  sum- 
mer overcoat,  and  Hombiirg  hat.  Ethel  shakes 
hands  zvith  Jerry)  How  do  you  do?  Excuse  me 
just  a  moment.  Wait,  Jarvis.  (Goes  to  zvriting- 
desk,  tears  envelope  opens,  adds  a  postscript,  ad- 
dresses another  envelope,  and  seals  it.  The  moment 
Jerry  enters  Peg's  face  lights  up.  She  gives  him 
her  hand) 

Jerry.    Well,  and  how^  is  Miss  Peg? 

Peg.  Oh!  Fm  fine,  Mr.  Jerry.  How  are  you? 
Let  me  take  yer  hat  and  coat. 

Jerry.    No,  thank  you.    Pni  not  going  to  stay. 

Peg.     (c,  disappointedly)     Ye're  not? 

Jerry,     (c.)     is  your  aunt  in? 

Peg.    Yes.    Are  you  calling  on  her? 

Jerry.    Yes. 

Ethel.  (Rises,  hands  letter  to  Jarvis)  Send 
that,  please. 

{Exit  Jarvis.) 

Jerry,  (c,  bringing  Ethel  into  the  scene)  Fve 
come  to  ask  your  mother  if  she  would  let  you  both 
come  to  a  dance  to-night  across  at  the  Assembly 
Rooms. 

Ethel.  Pm  sorry.  I  can't  go.  I  have  a  head- 
ache.    (Turns  and  crosses  l.  to  door) 

Jerry,  (l.  c.)  What  a  pity!  Do  you  suppose 
your  mother  would  aliow  Miss  Margaret  to  go? 

Ethel.  (Stops  and  turns)  I'll  ask  her.  {Goes 
to  door  L.) 

Peg.  {Impulsively  runs  to  her.  In  undertone) 
I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  ye — (Ethel  goes  out  l.  Peg 
comes  back  ruefully  and  sits  on  couch,  after  zcliich 
Jerry  puts  hat  and  coat  on  chair  l.  of  table) 

Jerry,     (c.)     What's  the  matter? 


86  PEG  O'  :^IY  HEART 

Peg.  (Sits  back  of  couch)  I  tell  you,  one  of  us 
girls  has  been  brought  up  all  wrong.  I  tried  to  make 
friends  with  her,  but  only  made  her  hopping-niad.  as 
I  make  everybody  else  in  this  house.  The  minute  I 
open  my  mouth  away  they  go. 

Jerry.    Arn't  you  friends  ? 

Peg.  No.  We're  not.  None  of  them  are  with 
me. 

Jerry.    What  a  shame ! 

Peg.  Wait  until  yc  hear  mc  aunt  when  ye  ask  her 
about  the  dance. 

Jerry.     Don't  you  think  she  will  let  you  go? 

Peg.  No.  I  know  she  won't  let  me  go.  I  know 
that.  The  question  is — are  we  going?  {Deter- 
minedly, rises  and  goes  to  him)  I  want  to  go  to 
that  dance,  Jerrv. 

Jerry.     Why^  Peg 

Peg.  (l.)  I  do  want  to  go  to  that  dance.  Pm 
crazy  mad  to  go  to  that  dance. 

(Jerry  shakes  his  head.) 

Jerry.    W^'ll  ask  your  aunt. 

Peg.    I  know  we  will.     We'll  ask  her  to-morrow. 

Jerry.     No.     We'll  ask  her  to-night. 

Peg.  Don't  let's  take  any  chances.  I  do  want 
to  go  to  that  dance,  Jerry. 

Jerry.     No,  Peg,  no. 

Peg.  Well,  if  you  think  Pm  .<:oing  to  let  a  dance 
get  by  me  you're  very  much  mistaken.  When  the 
lights  are  all  out  and  they're  all  asleep  Pll  creep 
down  the  stairs  and  meet  you  at  the  foot  of  the  path. 
And  if  it  goes  against  your  tender  conscience  to  take 
me — I'll  take  you — and  that's  how  we'll  settle  th:it. 

Jerry,  (c.  Laughing)  Rut  there  may  not  be 
any  occasion  to  do  any  such  wild,  foolish  thing. 
Your  aunt  may  be  delighted. 

Peg.     ATy  rumt  doesn't  know  how  to  spell  that. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  87 

Jerry.  (Sits  on  tabic  c,  looking  at  books)  Are 
these  your  books  ?  How  are  your  studies  progress- 
ing ?  , 

Peg.  The  way  they  ahvays  have.  They  re  stand- 
ing still.  I  can't  see  the  sense  of  learnin'  the  heiq^hts 
of^^a  lot  of  mountains  I'm  never  goin'  to  climb. 
And  I  want  to  tell  you,  I'm  surprised  at  my  aunt 
allowing  me  to  read  about  the  doings  of  those  dead 
kings.    I  thinlv  Charles  II  was  a  devil. 

Jerry.     They  made  history. 

Peg.  Did  they?  Well,  they  ought  to  have  been 
ashamed  of  themselves.  I  don't  care  how  high 
Mont  Blanc  is,  and  I  don't  care  when  William  the 
Conqueror  landed  in  England. 

Jerry.    Oh,  nonsense 

Peg.  And  I  tell  ye,  I  hate  yer  English  history — 
it  makes  all  m.y  Irish  blood  boil,  so  it  does.  "  What 
is  England?  Do  you  know  what  it  is  ?  It's  a  bitof 
a  counthry  that's  tramplin'  down  a  fine  race  like 
ours."  That's  what  my  father  says,  and  that's  how 
my  father  says  it,  with  his  fist,  and  nobody  ever  co.i- 
tradicts  him  either. 

(Jerry  laughs.) 

Jerry.     Is  it  fair  to  your  aunt? 

Peg.     (Sullenly)     I  don't  know. 

Jerry.    Is  it  fair  to  yourself  ? 

Peg.     That  sounds  like  my  aunt,  that  does. 

Jerry.  You'll  be  at  such  a  disadvantage  by-and- 
by  with  other  girls  with  half  your  intelligence  just 
because  they  know  the  things  you  refuse  to  learn. 
Then  you'll  be  ashamed. 

Peg.    Are  you  ashamed  of  me? 

Jerry.     Not  a  bit. 

Peg.    You're  not  ashamed  of  me,  are  ye? 

Jerry.     Of  course  not. 


88  PEG  O'  ]\IY  HEART 

Peg.  Then  everything's  all  rii::lit  then.  What's 
the  matter?     (CrOCS  to  piano  and  sits  on  stool) 

Tekrv.  I  was  just  the  same  at  your  age.  (Crosses 
to  armchair  r.)  I  used  to  scamp  at  school  and  shirk 
at  colleije  until  I  found  myself  so  far  behind  fellows 
I  des;")ise(l  that  I  was  ashamed.  Then  I  went  after 
them  tooth  and  nail  until  I  caught  them  up  and 
passed  them.     {Kneels  on  chair  r.  c.) 

Peg.     (Eagerly)     Did  ye  now? 

Jerry.     I  did. 

Peg.     I  am  going  to  do  that,  too. 

Jerry.    \\'ill  you? 

Peg.  (Nods  vigorously)  From  now  on  Pm 
going  to  learn  everything  they  teach  me,  if  it  kills 
me 

Jerry.    I  wish  you  would. 

Vr.c.  And  after  I  know  more  than  anybody  else 
in  all  the  world  ever  knew  are  you  going  to  be  very 
proud  of  me?     (Wistfully) 

Jerry.  (Kneeling  on  armchair  r.)  Very.  Even 
more  than  I  am  now. 

Peg.     Are  ye  proud  of  me  now? 

Jerry.  Yes,  Peg,  proud  to  think  you're  my 
friend. 

Peg.  Faith,  that's  not  news.  I  know  very  well 
that  we're  friends. 

Jerry.     I  am  yours. 

Peg.  Sure,  I  guess  Pm  you  yours  all  right. 
(Looks  at  him,  laughs  sJiyly,  presses  her  cheeks) 
Did  ye  ever  hear  what  Tom  Moore  wrote  about 
friendship? 

Jerry.    No. 

Peg.  (Excitedly)  Would  ye  like  to  hear  what 
Tom  Moore  wrote  about  friendship? 

Jerry.     Yes. 

Peg.  See  if  anybody's  comin'.  (Jerry  crosses 
to  stairs  and  listens.    Peg  starts  playing) 


PEG  O'  ^lY  HEART  89 

Jerry.  {Crosses  to  armchair  r.  c.)  Oho!  So 
you  play? 

Peg.  {Nods,  laughing)  A  little  bit.^  My  father 
taught  me.  But  my  aunt  can't  bear  it.  Do  you 
know  what  the  teacher  here  told  me"^  She  said  I 
should  do  this — {Plays  scale) — for  two  years.  I 
should  do  that  before  I  played  a  tune.  I  told  her 
I  played  by  ear.     She  said  I  had  no  ear. 

Jerry.  {Looking  at  her  ears)  I  think  they're 
very  pretty. 

Peg.     Do  ye? 

Jerry.    I  do. 

Peg.  Well,  you  watch  them,  and  then  you  won't 
mind  my  singin'.  Come  on  over  in  Jarvis'  high- 
chair.  (Jerry  crosses  to  chair  below  piano.  Peg 
smiles  up  at  him)  About  a  girl,  this  is,  who  built 
a  shrine.  And  she  thought  the  best  Ihing  in  the 
world  to  put  in  it  was  an  image  of  "  Friendship  " . 

Jerry.    Yes. 

Peg.  Yes.  You  see  she  was  like  you.  She 
thought  there  was  nothing  in  the  world  as  nice  as 
friendship. 

Jerry.    Yes. 

Peg.  Yes.  And  this  is  what  happened  to  her. 
{Laughs  a  little  elfish  laugh,  and  then  croons  softly) 
"  She  flew  to  a  sculptor,  who  set  down  before  her 

A  "  Friendship,"  the  fairest  his  art  could  invent. 

But  so  cold  and  so  dull  that  this  Youthful  adorer 
Saw    plainly    that    was    not    the    Friendship    she 
meant. 

{Sings.) 

Oh,  never,'  she  cried,  "  could  I  think  of  enshrin- 
ing 
An  image  whose  looks  are  so  joyless  and  dim, 
But  yon  little  Cupid— {Points  to  Cupid) 
midst  roses  reclining. 


90  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

We'll  make,  if   vou  please,  sir,  a  Friendship  of 
him." 

A    Friendship    of    Cupid.       (Jerry    looks    at    the 
statuette.     Peg  nods,  smiling,  and  excitedly  sings) 

"  *  Farewell,'  said  the  sculptor,  'Sure,  you're  not  the 
first  maiden 
\Mio  came  but  for  Friendship  and  took  away — 

(Pause) 

T..ove. 

{Her  voice  dies  aivay  to  a  zvhisper) 

Terry.  {Amazed)  Where  in  the  world  did  you 
learn  that? 

Peg.  ]\Iy  father  taught  me  that.  Tom  Moore's 
my  father's  prayer-book. 

Jerry.  {Rises  and  crosses  c.)  "  Who  came  but 
for  Friendship  and  took  away  Love." 

Peg.      {On  piano-stool)     Isn't  that  beautiful? 

Jerry.  Is  there  anything  better  than  friendship 
between  man  and  woman? 

Peg.  Of  course  there  is.  {Crosses  r.  c,  nods, 
goes  to  him)  My  father  felt  it  toward  my  mother 
or  I  wouldn't  be  here  now. 

Jerry.     Could  you  ever  feel  it.  Peg? 

(Peg  nods.) 

Peg.  I  wish  I'd  studied — I'd  be  moie  worthy 
of — [Crosses  l.  c,  suddenly  breaking  off.  Jerry, 
c,  turns  to  her.  Peg  covering  up  zcJnit  is  in  her 
mind  and  on  her  tongue)     I'm  just  an  Irish  nothing. 

Jerry.    Don't  say  that. 

Peg.  Yet  I'm  sure  there  is  something  good  in 
me,  but  the  bad  little  something  always  beats  the 
good  little  something  out,  so  it  does. 

Jerry.  What  you  call  the  bad  in  you  is  just  the 
cry   of  youth   that   resents   being   curbed,   and   the 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  91 

good  in  vou  is  the  woman  struggling  for  an  outlet. 

Peg.  Will  you  help  me  to  give  it  an  outlet,  Mr. 
Jerry  ? 

Jerry.     Yes.     In  every  way  in  my  power. 

Peg.  {RoguisJily)  Well,  would  ye  mind  very 
much  if  the  bad  little  something  had  just  one  more 
spurt  before  I  killed  it  alto^-ether. 

Jerry.    What  do  you  mean? 

Peg.  I  want  to  go  to  the  dance.  It's  the  last  bad 
thing  I'll  ask  you  to  let  me  do.  I'll  behave  like  a 
Saint  from  Heaven  after  that.  I'll  die  happy  if  I 
can  waltz  once  around  the  floor  with  you.  (P lead- 
ing. Dances  up  to  him,  and  zvalt::es  round  him,  to 
R.  Enter  L.  Mrs.  Chichester,  who  looks  at  Peg 
in  Jwrrified  amazcuient) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Oh!  What  does  this  mean? 
(l.  c.) 

Jerry.  {Crossing  to  Mrs.  Chichester)  I  want 
you  to  do  something  that  will  make  the  child  very 
happy.  Will  you  allow  her  to  go  to  a  dance  at  the 
Assembly  Rooms  to-night? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Certainly  not.  I'm  surprised 
at  your  asking  such  a  thing. 

Peg.  {Sits  armchair  r.  c.)  I  could  have  toid 
you  that  backwards. 

Jerry.  {Straightening  up)  I  asked  Ethel  as 
well,  but  she  can't  go,  as  she's  got  a  headache.  I 
thought  you  might  be  pleased  at  giving  your  niece 
a  little  pleasure. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Go  to  a  dance?  Un- 
chaperoned  ? 

Jerry.     My  mother  and  sisters  will  be  there. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {Crossing  him  to  c.)  A  child 
of  her  age ! 

Peg.  '"{Vehemently)  A  child  of  my  age!  :\Iv 
father  lets  me  go  any  place  I  want  to  ever  since  I 
was  six.    Ye  can't  raise  the  Irish  on  a  lot  of  books. 


92  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

It's  never  been  done.  They'll  die  on  yer  hands, 
they  will.     I'm  crazy  mad  to  go  to  thiit  dance. 

Mrs.  Ciiiciiesteu.    No,  Margaret. 

Peg.  rU  study  my  head  olt  in  the  morning  if 
ye'U  let  nvi  dance' my  feet  ofi  a  little  bit  to-night. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     No. 

Peg.  ( Pleadingly)  1  ask  ye  on  my  bended 
knees, — Please  let  me  go  to  the  dance. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     No,  Margaret.     No. 

Peg.  All  right.  I  give  ye  fair  warning,  Pm  going 
to  the  dance. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {To  Jerry)  It  was  very 
good  of  you  to  trouble  to  come  over.  Forgive  me 
if  I  seem  ungracious,  but  it's  quite  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. 

(Peg  z^'inhs  of  Jerry   behind   aIrs.   Chichester's 
back,  and  rises.) 

Jerry.  (Gets  hat  and  coat  from  chair  l.  of 
table)  I'm  sorry.  (Shakes  hands  with  Mrs.  Chi- 
chester) 

?Jrs.  Chichester,  (c.)  Kindly  remember  me 
to  your  mother  and  sisters. 

Jerry.  With  pleasure.  Good-night!  {Goes  to 
door  l.) 

Peg.  Good-night,  Mr.  Jerry.  {Pantoniiines 
Jerry  that  she  ivill  be  doivn  to  meet  him  and  go  to 
the  dance  after  they're  all  in  bed.  Mrs.  Chichester 
looking  round  and  seeing  her  making  signs,  I'eg 
pretends  to  be  catching  a  fly.    Exit  Jerry) 

Mrs.  Chichester,  (l.)'  What  do  you  mean  bv 
twirling  around  in  that  disgraceful  way?  Are  y(ui 
ever  going  to  learn  how  to  behave? 

Peg.  (c.)  Yes,  aunt.  I'm  never  going  to  annoy 
you  after  to-night.  I'm  going  to  work  very  hard. 
too, — after  to-night.  Don't  ye  sec  what  a'  disad- 
vantage Pd  be  at  with  other  girls  of  half  my  age  and 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  93 

half  my  intelligence.  I'm  going  after  them  tooth 
and  nail,  and  I'll  catch  them  up  and  pass  them,  and 
then  he'll  be  proud  of  me,  he  will. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     What? 

Peg.    Ye'll  be  proud  of  me,  I  said,  ye  will. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    What  is  all  this  ? 

Peg.     It's  what  I'm  going  to  do — after  to-night. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Well,  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  it. 

Peg.  I  knew  ye  would  be.  And  I'll  never  be  any 
trouble  to  ye — after  to-night. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  I  hope  you  will  be  of  the 
same  opinion  in  the  morning. 

Peg.  I  hope  so,  too.  D'ye  mind  very  much  if  I 
sit  up  for  an  hour 

Mrs.  Chichester.    What? 

Peg.     Study,  I  mean. 

(Mrs.  Chichester  crosses  to  piano.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Study  just  one  hour.  That 
will  be  very  nice. 

(Peg  goes  to  back  of  table ^  sits,  and  opens  afhis.) 

Peg.    Are  you  going  to  bed  now  ? 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Yes. 

Peg.    Everybody  in  the  house  going  to  bed  novr  ? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Yes.  Everybody.  {Shuts 
piano,  goes  2ip  and  closes  zcindo'ccs,  turns  off  hiOJl 
lamp) 

Peg.     That's  good.     (Sinc/s  song) 

*'  Man,  dear,   I   remember  when  coming  home  the 

rain  began. 
I  wrapped  my  frieze  coat  round  her,  and  devil  a 

waistcoat  had  I  on. 
My  shirt  was  rather  fine-drawn,  but,  oh,  the  false 

and  cruel  one. 
For  all  o'  that  she's  gone  and  left  me  here  for  to 

die." 


j. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART 


Mrs.  Ciiiciiestek.  Where  on  earth  did  you  hear 
a  song  Hke  that  ? 

Peg.  That's  a  fine  song,  that  is.  That's  my 
father's  hest  song.     An  Irish  song,  that  is. 

AIrs.  Chichester.  I  should  think  it  was. 
(Closes  curiuins) 

Peg.     It  has  twenty-two  verses. 

?dRS.  Chichester.  {Comes  doivn  l.  of  Peg) 
Has  it,  indeed? 

Peg.    Yes.    I  know  them  all,  too.     {Sings  again) 

Man,  dear,  and  did  ye  never  hear  of  pretty  AlcUy 

Brannigan  ? 
Faith,  and  she  has  left  me,  and  I'll  never  he  a  man 
again. 

■Irs.  Chichester.    Now,  now !    Don't  make  any 
noise. 

Peg.  That's  not  a  noise.  That's  my  best  sing- 
ing.    That's  very  discouraging  to  a  young  singer. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Good-night,  Margaret.  And, 
oh,  if  only  you  would  keep  your  hair  out  of  your 
eyes. 

Peg.  Well,  why  don't  you  let  me  wear  one  of 
your  fishnets?  (Mrs.  Chichester  goes  upstairs 
saying  "  Fishnets!"    Peg  calling)     Oh,  Aunt! 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Yes? 

Peg.  Do  you  remember  1  said  I  had  to  be  getting 
back  home?  Well,  I've  changed  my  mind.  I'd  like 
to  stay  here  anotjier  month,  please. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {Top  of  stairs)  W'oil.  we'll 
talk  it  over  with  Mr.  Hawkes  in  the  morning. 

{JTarnijig.) 

Peg.    Yes,  Aunt. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Good-night,  .Margaret. 
Peg.     God  bless  you.     {Exit  Mrs.  Chichester. 
Business.     Sings) 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  95 

"  The  left  side  of  my  carcass  is  as  weak  as  water- 
gruel,  man. 
There's  not  a  pick  upon  my  bones  since  Molly's 

proved  so  cruel,  man. 
And  if  I  had  a  bkmdcr-frun  I'd  go  and  fight  a  duel 

man. 
'Tis  better  I  should  shoot  myself  than  live  here  to 
die." 

(Or) 

**  The  place  where  my  heart  was  you  could  easy 

roll  a  turnip  in. 
Tis  as  wide  as  old  Dublin,  and  from  Dublin  to 

the  Devil's  Glyn. 
If   she  wished  to  take  another,  sure,  she  might 

have  left  mine  back  again, 
And  not  have  gone  and  left  me  here  alone  for  to 

die." 

(Ethel  enters,  goes  upstairs,  and  exits  zvithout  a 
li'ord  as  Peg  sings.) 

"  I'm  cool  and  determined  as  any  Alexander  man 
[  Will  ye  come  to  my  wake  when  I  go  the  long 
!     ,    meander,  man  ?  " 

'Hello,  Ethel!  (il//??r/r.y  Ethel)  "  How  do  ye  do. 
Margaret  ?  "  "  Im'  studying  for  an  hour."  {Turning 
leaves  of  atlas)  "  I'm  trving  to  find  England." 
(Pause)  "  Good  night,  Ethel."  "  Good  night,  Mar- 
garet, dear."  "  Sleep  tight,  Ethel."  "  Oh,  that's  all 
right,  Margaret."  "  Don't  mention  it,  Ethel." 
{Miniies  Alaric)  "What's  the  population  of 
Turkey?  Ye  little  devil!  Study  all  the  pretty 
maps.  Model  yourself  on  Ethel.  Sit  down  like 
Ethel."  {Noise  with  mouth.  Goes  up  c.  and^  pulls 
curtains  open.  Clock  strikes  nine)  I  wonder  if  he's 
coming  back.      {Comes  down  and  sits  chair  R.  of 


96  PEG  O'  :\IY  HEART 

tabic.  IJ'nnics  ]\Iks.  Chichester  and  Jerry)  "  Go 
to  a  dance  imchaperoned?  Oh,  no.  Not  nnchap- 
eroncd."  **  Mv  mother  and  sisters  will  be  there. 
Eh,  what?  What,  what?"  "Go  to  a  dance? 
A  child  of  her  age?  Margaret,  I'm  surprised.  No, 
sir.     No  dance.     Not  until  she's — eighty." 

Curfai}!  falls  for  about  ten  seconds 

(As  soon  as  curtain  is  doz^ni  start  music  under  stage) 

Curtain 

(Curtain  rises  Dance  music  "  Valse  Mauve"  heard 
faintly  in  the  distance.  Jerry  enters  througJi 
opening  r.  u.  e.,  goes  to  slairs,  liste}is.  tlien  goes 
back  to  r.  u.  e.) 

Jerry  It's  all  right.  (Peg  enters,  goes  to  stairs, 
listens,  then  comes  to  Jerry,  who  has  gone  to  piano 
and  put  doivn  his  hat) 

Peg.  Oh,  I'm  so  happy  !  So  happy  !  The  whole 
world's  goin'  round  in  or.c  grand  waltz,  and  it's  all 
been  through  you,  Mr.  Jerry.  (Dances  to  the  dis- 
tant music) 

Jerry.  (Up  r.  c.)  I'm  glad  it's  been  through 
me.  Peg. 

Peg,  I  don't  see  why  it  can't  all  be  like  this.  \\' by 
can't  we  laugh  and  dance  our  way  through  it  all? 

Jerry  I  wish  I  could  make  the  world  one  great 
ballroom  for  you. 

Peg.  And  no  creepin'  back  like  a  thief  in  the 
night ! 

Jerry.  No — your  own  mistress,  free  to  do  what- 
ever you  wish. 

Peg.  (Suddenly,  tc/V/z  a  little  elfish  laugh)  Yet, 
you  know,  half  the  fun  to-night  has  been  that  while 
I'm  supposed  to  be  sleepin'  upstairs  I've  been  at 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  97 

the  dance  stealin'  time.  Do  ye  know  "  the  best  of 
all  ways  to  ieni2:then  vour  days?" 

Terry.    No." 

Peg.  "  It's  to  steal  a  few  hours  from  the  night, 
my  dear." 

Jerry.      (By  piano)     Well,  you'ye  stolen  them. 

^Y,G.     Pm  a  thief,  I  am. 

Terry.  No.  You're  the  sweetest,  dearest — 
(Bends  over  her,  checks  himself,  goes  to  piano  for 
hat)    I  think  3^ou'd  better  go  to  bed  now. 

Peg.  I  know  that.  But  what  were  ye  goin'  to 
say  to  me? 

Jerry.  Something  it  would  be  better  to  say  in 
daylight. 

Peg.  But  why  in  the  daylight,  with  the  beautiful 
bright  moon  so  high  in  the  heavens? 

Jerry.     Go  now.     Someone  may  hear  us. 

Peg.  I'll  not  sleep  a  whik  thinkin'  of  all  the 
wonderful  things  that  have  happened  this  night. 
Must  I  go? 

Jerry.    You  must. 

Peg.    With  the  music  coming  in  across  the  lawn? 

Jerry.    Someone  might  come. 

Peg.    And  the  moon  so  high  in  the  heavens  ? 

Jerry.     I  don't  want  to  cause  you  any  trouble. 

Peg.    That's  a  grand  moon,  so  it  is. 

Jerry.    Go,  Peg,  go. 

Peg.  (Crosses  over  to  l.  by  post)  All  right.  T 
suppose  you  do  know  best,  but  that's  a  magnificent 
moon.  Good-night,  Mr.  Jerry. 

(Stop  music) 

Jerry.  Good-night,  Peg.  (Kisses  her  hand. 
She  gives  a  little  sigh  and  looks  at  her  hand.  Foot- 
steps are  heard  in  the  garden.  At  opening  r.)  Take 
care!  Someone  is  coming.  (Goes  out.  Feg  sits  on 
stairs,  hiding  behind  newel  post.  Brent  appears 
outside  opening  r.)     Hello,  Brent ! 


qS  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Brent.     Why,  what  in  the  world- 


Jerry.     Ssh!     The  house  is  asleep. 

Rrext.     So  I  see. 

Jerry.  Just  coining  from  the  dance?  I  didn't 
sec  you  there. 

Brent.  No.  I  was  restless,  and  just  strolled 
here. 

Jerry.  (Takes  Bre^t'^^  arr.i)  Shall  we  go  along 
to  the  road  together? 

Brent.     Right 

Jerry.    Strolled  here  ?    \M"iy.  you've  got  your  car. 

Brent.  Car?  Yes.  It's  a  hright  night  for  a  spin. 
(They  disappear) 

(Peg  remains  in  the  same  position  til!  they  are  out 
of  hearinq,  then  she  creeps  up  the  stairs.  At 
the  top  she  starts  back,  and  Ethel  appears, 
fillip  dressed,  carrying  a  small  dressing-bag. 
Ethel  zvaits  to  come  dozjn  till  Peg  is  nearly  at 
the  top  of  the  stairs. 

Peg.    Ethel! 

Ethel.  (At  head  of  stairs.  In  guarded  to)!es) 
Go  down  into  the  room.  (Peg  goes  dozoistairs  to 
c,  Ethel  follozving  her  to  l.  front  of  table) 

Peg.  (r.  front  of  table)  Ye  won't  tell  your 
mother,  will  ye?  She'd  send  me  away,  and  I  don't 
want  to  go  away  now.     Eve  been  to  the  dance. 

Ethel.     To  the  dance? 

Peg.     Yes.     Mr.  Jerry  took  me. 

Ethel.     Jerry? 

Peg.  Yes.  Ye  won't  tell  your  mother,  will  ye? 
(Backing  to  c.) 

Ethel.  (FoUozving)  I  most  certainly  shall  see 
that  mv  mother  knows  it. 

Peg.'   You  will  ? 

Ethel.     I  will,    ^'ou  had  no  right  to  go. 

Peg.     Why  arc  you  so  hard  on  mc,  Ethel? 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  99 

Ethel.  (Crossing  r.  and  up  R.)  Because  I  de- 
test you.  .^       ,,  . 

Peg.  Pm  sorry.  Ye'vc  spoilt  all  my  pleasure 
now  so  you  have.'  (Starts  to  stairs  and  goes  slozvly 
lip.  'stops,  think,  looks  at  Ethel)  Wait  a  minute ! 
What  are  you  doin'  yourself  with  your  hat  and  coat 
on  at  this  time  of  night?     (Coming  back  l.  c.) 

Ethel,     (r.,  turning  to  Peg)     Go  to  your  room! 

Peg.     (l.  c.)     Were  you  goin'  away? 

Ethel,     (c.)     Keep  your  voice  down. 

Peg.  He  was  here  a  minute  ago— Jerry  took  him 
away. 

Ethel.     Who  was  here? 

Peg.  Mr.  Brent  was  here.  (Ethel  starts.  Peg 
grips  her  zurist)  Were  ye  goin'  away  with  hnn? 
Were  ye? 

Ethel.    Take  your  hands  off  me. 

Peg.     Were  ye?     Answer  me. 

Ethel.    Yes.    And  I  am. 

Peg.  (Turns  Ethel  round  to  l.  c.)  No,  yc're 
not. 

Ethel.     Let  me  go. 

Peg.  Ye're  not  going  out  of  this  house  to-night 
if  I  have  to  v/ake  everyone  in  it. 

Ethel,  (c,  front  of  table)  Wake  them  !  They 
can't  stop  me.  Nothing  can  stop  me  now.  I'm  sick 
of  this  living  on  charity,  sick  of  meeting  you  every 
day — an  implied  insult  in  your  every  tone  and  lock, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  Pm  giving  you  your  daily  bread, 
Pm  keeping  the  roof  over  you."  Pm  sick  of  it,  and 
I  end  it  to-night.    Let  me  go,  or  Pit — PU — (Starts) 

Peg.  What  d'ye  mean,  Pm  keepin'  the  roof  over 
ye,  Pm  givin'  ye  yer  daily  bread?  What  arc  ye 
ravin'  about? 

Ethel.  Pm  at  the  end  to-night.  Pm  going — 
(Struggles  with  Peg) 

Peg.  And  what  d'ye  suppose  ye'd  be  agoin'  to? 
A  wakin'  and  sleepin'  hell,  sure ! 


100  PEG  O  MY  HEART 

Ethel,    rm  going. 

Peg.    Ye'd  take  him  from  his  wife  r.r.cl  her  baby? 

Ethel.  He  hates  them,  and  I  hate  this.  And 
Pm  going 

Peg.  So  ye'd  break  yer  mother's  heart  and  his 
V"  wife's  just  to  satisfy  yer  own  selfish  pleasures? 
Well,  Pm  glad  I  sinned  to-night  in  doin'  what  I 
wanted  to  do,  since  it's  given  me  the  chance  to  save 
you  from  doin'  the  most  shameful  thing  a  woman 
ever  did. 

Ethel.     (Turiis)     Will  you ? 

Peg.  Ye'll  stay  here  if  I  have  to  wake  up  the 
whole  world. 

Ethel,  (c,  frightencdh:)  No,  no,  you  mustn't 
do  that! 

Peg.  Ye  just  told  me  yer  own  mother  couldn't 
stop  ye. 

Ethel.  She  mustn't  know  !  She  mustn't  know  1 
(Sobs)  Let  me  go.  He's  waiting.  {Moves  for- 
zi'ard) 

Peg.  You  let  him  v^ait.  He  gave  his  name  and 
his  life  to  a  woman,  and  it's  your  duty  to  protect 
her  and  the  child  she  brought  him. 

Ethel,     (c.)     Pd  kill  myself  first. 

Peg.  (k.  c.)  Not  first.  That's  what  would 
happen  to  ye  after  ye'd  gone  with  him.  He'd  lave 
ye  in  an  hour  to  sorrow  alone.  Doesn't  he  want  to 
leave  the  woman  he  swore  to  cherish  at  the  altar  of 
God?  What  do  we  suppose  he'd  do  to  one  he  took 
no  oath  with  at  all?  You  have  some  sense  about 
this.  And  I  want  to  tell  ye  it's  no  compliment  the 
man's  payin'  ye  either.  Faith,  he'd  have  made  love 
to  me  if  Pd  let  him. 

Ethel.    (Turns  to  Peg  slozvly)    What?    To  you? 

Peg.  If  ye  hadn't  come  in  when  ye  did  to-dav 
Pd  have  taught  him  a  lesson  he'd  have  carried  to  his 
grave,  so  I  would. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  toi 

Ethel.  (Crossing  to  Peg)  He  tried  to  make 
love  to  you? 

Peg.  '  (r.  c.)  A  dozen  times  since  Pve  been  in 
yer  house.  And  to-day  he  walked  toward  me  with 
his  arms  outstretched,  saying,  "  Come.  Let's  kiss 
and  be  friends,"  and  in  you  came. 

Ethel.     (Coming  forzvard  r.)     Is  that  true? 

Peg.  On  my  poor  mother's  memory  that's  true, 
so  it  is. 

Ethel.  Oh!  The  wretch!  The  wretch! 
(Sinks  in  chair  R.  of  tabic,  drops  hag) 

Peg.  That's  what  he  is.  And  ye'd  give  yer  life 
into  his  keepin'  to  blacken  so  that  no  decent  man 
or  woman  would  ever  lock  at  ye  again. 

Ethel.  No.  That's  over.  It's  over.  I  hate 
myself.  Oh,  hov/  I  hate  myself!  (Crying  and 
sobbing) 

Peg.  (Li  a  moir.cnt  all  pity)  Ethel!  AcuslVa! 
Don't  cry.  Don't  do  that.  Don't.  Don't  ye  know 
he's  not  v/orth  it  ?  Don't  ye  know  ye've  got  to  kape 
yer  life  and  yer  heart  clean  till  the  one  man  in  all 
the  world  com.es  to  ye,  and  then  ye'li  know  what 
real  happiness  means.  Don't  cry,  dear.  (Ethel 
buries  her  face  in  her  hands  to  deaden  the  sobs. 
Peg  beside  her,  comforting  her.  Ethel  still  crying) 
Well,  then,  cry.  And  may  the  salt  of  yer  tears  v/ash 
away  the  sins  of  this  night  and  fail  like  holy  water 
on  yer  soul !  And  with  the  sunlight  the  thought  of 
all  this  will  go  from  ye.  Come  to  my  room  and  I'll 
sit  by  yer  side  till  morning.  (Peg  helps  her  up. 
Ethel,  on  the  verge  of  fainting,  picks  up  bag,  her 
body  trembling  with  suppressed  sobs,  totters.  Peg 
7valks  her  across  to  staircase  l.)  I  don't  know  at 
all  how  you  could  think  of  going  away  wiih  a 
married  man,  Ethel. 

Ethel.     (Cries)     Oh,  J\  I  a  rga  ret ! 

Peg.     Ssh,  dear!     You'll   wake  yer  mother  up. 


\ 


102  PEG  O'  :\IY  HEART 

Not  a  sound !  Not  a  sound  now !  We'll  talk  when 
we  get  upstairs.  Aisy  now!  (Both  creep  up  the 
stairs.  When  they  are  almost  at  the  top  Peg  slips 
and  rolls  all  the  icay  to  the  bottom,  knocking  over 
a  brass  jardiniere  at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  zchich 
rolls  all  tlie  zcay  dozun.  Peg  rises,  runs  across  to 
R.  corner.    Ethel  follozus  her.    Peg  listens) 

Peg.    Holy  Mary! 

Ethel.    What  shall  we  do?    What  shall  wc  do? 

Peg.  Well,  that's  all  Pm  going  to  do,  I  tell  you. 
If  that  doesn't  wake  them  up  they're  sleeping  the 
sleep  of  the  dead. 

(Voices  off  L.) 

Alakic.  (Off  L.)  Pleko,  ]\Iater!  Did  you  hear 
it,  too?    Etc. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Off  l.)  Oh,  Alaric!  A 
most  fearful  crash!     Etc. 

Ethel.  Oh,  what  shall  we  do,  ]\Iargaret?  What 
shall  we  do? 

Peg.  Give  me  your  hat  and  coat,  and  sit  in  that 
chair.  (Takes  off  her  cap  and  cloak  and  puts  on 
Ethel's  hat  and  coat)  Pll  do  all  the  talking,  though 
what  the  devil  Pll  say  I  don't  know.  Don't  you  say 
a  word.  Your  mother  mustn't  know  you  were  going 
out  of  the  house  with  th:it  man.  It  would  hrealc 
her  heart.  Where's  your  bag?  (Takes  bag  quickly 
from  Ethel.  Door  l.  opens  and  Jahvis  enters. 
Mrs.  Chichester  and  Alaric  coming  dozk'n  tJie 
stairs  zcith  candles,  Mrs.  Chichester  /;/  wrapper, 
Alaric  in  dressing-  gown) 

Alaric.  It's  all  right.  Mater.  Don't  be  fright- 
ened. I'm  not  a  bit  timid.  Thank  God  you've'  -< 
a  man  in  the  house. 

Jak\  IS.  Who's  there?  (Alaric  jnoz'cs  care- 
fully L.,  collides  zvith  Jarvis,  and  takes  him  b\  the 
throat) 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  103 

Alaric.    Ah!     I've  got  you? 

Tarvis.     It's  only  me,  sir. 

Alaric.  Oh,  get' out  of  the  way  Jarvis.  (Jarvis 
exits  L.  Alaric  moves  sloidy  c,  flashing  his  light 
all  over  the  room)  Now  then,  come  out!  Where 
are  vou?     (Sees  the  two  girls)     Ethel! 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Margaret! 

Alaric.  Well!  I  mean  to  say!  What  I  want 
to  know  is — {Szvitches  on  lights.  Ethel  is  dis- 
covered very  zvhite  and  tear-stained  in  the  chair, 
Peg  standing  beside  her,  ivearing^  Ethel',?  coat  and 
hat  and  carrying  her  hand-hag  in  her  right  hand) 
What  are  you  two  girls  playing  at? 

Mrs.  Chichester  {To  Peg)  What  does  this 
mean  ? 

Peg.  Sure,  I  was  c:oino-  out,  and  when  I  came  in 
Ethel  said  to  me-^ 

Mrs.  Chichester    Where  were  you  going  ?^ 

Peg.  I  was  going  out,  and — when  I  came  in — - 
Ethel  said  to  me 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Where  were  you  going? 

Peg.  I  was  going  out,  I  said,  and — Ethel  came 
in 

Mrs.   Chichester.     Why,   that's   Ethel's   cloal:. 

Peg.  I  got  her  hat  on,  too.  And  Pve  got  her  bag. 
{Trying  to  distract  Mrs.  Chichester's  attention 
from  Ethel,  wJio  is  half -fainting,  puts  hag  or. 
corner  of  tahle) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Her  has:!  Ethel's  bag! 
{Opens  hag,  takes  out  wash-leather  hag)  Her 
jewel-bag! 

Peg.     Jewel-bag ! 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Where  did  you  get  this? 

Peg.     I  took  them. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    You  took  them? 

Peg.    Yes.     I  took  them. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    You  were  stealing  them? 

Peg.     No.    I  wasn't  stealincr  them.    I  took  'em. 


104  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Mrs.   Chichester.      IVJiy   did  you   take   them? 

Peg.     I  wanted  to  wear  them. 

Mrs.  Chichester,     (c.)     IVcar  them? 

Peg.  I  always  had  an  idea  I  should  like  to  wear 
Ethel's  jewels  and  her  hat  and  coat. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     At  this  time  of  night? 

Peg.  (r.  c.  Jumping  at  the  explanation)  I  went 
to  the  dance,  I  did. 

Mrs.  Chichester,     (l.  c.)     What  dance? 

Peg.  (r.  c.)  I  went  to  the  dance  with  Mr.  Jerry, 
and  I  thought  it  would  he  a  good  chance  to  wear 
Ethel's  jewels  and  her  hat  and  coat.  So  I  put  on 
her  hat  and  coat,  and  I  wore  her  jewels,  and  I  went 
to  the  dance,  and  when  I  came  back  I  made  a  noise, 
and  Ethel  heard  me.  She  put  on  some  clothes  and 
came  downstairs  and  said,  "  ^^'here  have  you 
been?"  I  said,  "Eve  been  to  the  dance  with  Air. 
Jerry."  She  said,  "  You'd  better  go  to  bed,"  and  I 
said,  "  All  right, "and  I  started  up  the  stairs,  and 
some  noisy  thing  came  all  the  way  down  and  forninst 
me. 

Alaric.  [Crosses  hack  of  table  to  arch  r.) 
There's  someone  prowling  in  the  garden. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  0\  Alaric!  {Puts  back 
jewel-bag  and  closes  hand-bag) 

Alaric    He's  on  the  path. 

Ethel.  (Rise's,  but  sits  again  as  Peg  soothes 
her)     Mr.  Brent! 

Alaric  He's  coming  here.  Don't  be  frightened, 
Mater.  Ell  deal  with  him.  (Ethel  straightens  up, 
here  eyes  distended.  Peg  grips  her  hand  to  quiet 
her)  Now,  then!  What  do  you  want  here?  Good 
Lord !     Jerry ! 

(Music  False  Mauve  begins  again  very  faint  in  the 
distance.     Enter  Jerry.) 

Jerry.  (Comes  dotvn  r.)  I  saw  your  lights  go 
up  and  T  ran  back.     I  guessed  something  like  this 


PEG  O'  UY  HEART  105 

had  happened.  Don't  be  hard  on  your  niece.  The 
Avholc  tbinp^  was  entirely  my  fault.  I  asked  her  to 
go. 

Mr.s.  Chichester.  You  took  my  niece  to  a  dance 
in  spite  of  my  absolute  refusal  to  allow  her  to  ^o? 

Peg.  He  had  nothing  to  do  with  it  all.  1  took  him 
to  the  dance,  I  did.    I  took  him. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Surely  Sir  Gerald  Adair 
knows  better  than  to  take  a  girl  of  eighteen  to  a 
public  ball  without  the   sanction  of  her  relatives? 

(Jerry  crosses  into  c.) 

Peg.  (r.)  Sir  Gerald?  (To  Jerry)  So  you 
have  a  title,  have  yez? 

Jerry,     (r.  c.)     Yes,  Peg. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Novv^  I  hope  you  realize  what 
you've  done. 

Peg.  I  am  just  beginning  to  realize  what  Eve 
done,  so  I  am. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    You've  disgraced  us  all. 

Peg.      (Fiercely)     Have  I? 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Em  ashamed  of  you. 

Peg.  Are  you?  Well,  Em  going  back  to  my 
father,  who's  never  ashamed  of  me.  Everything  I 
do  is  right  because  I  do  it.  Eve  disgraced  you,  have 
I?  There's  not  one  of  you  in  this  house  will  tel' 
the  truth  to  me — (To  Jerry) — and  Em  going  back  to 
my  father. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Well,  go  back  to  your  father. 

Peg.  (Starts  forzvard  angrily  to  -Mrs.  Chiches- 
ter)    Eve  never  been  mad  about  your  house. 

(  Warning. ) 

Ethel.  (Hysterically.  Rising  from  chair)  No, 
no !  Wait !  Don't  go.  Mother,  we  are  not  treating 
her  fairly.    You  found  her  here  to-night  because — 


io6  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

because — (Faints  in  chair.  General  movement. 
Peg  bends  over  her) 

Peg.  She's  fainted.  Get  some  water  and  some 
smellin.^-salts.     (Jerry  exit  l.  for  "water) 

Alaric.     (Runs  upstairs)     Smelling-salts. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Conies  running  over  to 
chair)     Ethel? 

Peg.  (Hysterically)  That's  all  right.  What 
help  can  you  be  to  her  now  that  she's  fainted,  I'd 
like  to  know.  You  don't  know  how  to  ra'se  her. 
You  don't  know  one  thought  in  yoijir  daughter's 
mind.  You  don't  know  who  she  sees  or  who  she 
goes  with.  Why  don't  you  try  to  ^nd  out  i-omething 
about  your  own  child  once  in  a  while  r  A  lot  you 
know  about  motherhood !  My  father  knows  more 
about  motherhood  than  any  man  in  the  world. 

(First  curtain.) 

(Jerry  comes  in  l.  with  water,  hands  it  to  Mrs. 
Chichester,  Alaric  comes  dozvnstairs  with 
smelling-salts  and  over  to  r.  Second  curtain. 
Act  plays  fifty-three  minutes.) 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  107 


ACT  III 


Scene:  Same  as  Act  I.  N.  B.  Same  flozvers  as 
in  Act  II,  a  few  fallen  leaves  on  table  and 
floor  (on  zvriting  desk  zanld  flozvers). 

Time  :    Next  morning. 

Discovered:  Alaric  sitting  on  zjuindozv-seat  up  at 
back  reading  a  nezvspaper. 

(Enter  Mrs.  Chichester,  pale  and  iveary,  from  up- 
stairs L.) 

Alaric.  Jumps  up,  puts  dozvn  paper,  meets  Mrs. 
Chichester  at  foot  of  stairs)  Mornin',  Mater. 
(Kisses  her  on  forehead)     How  are  you  feelin'? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Crossing  him  to  table  l.) 
I  didn't  close  my  eyes  all  night. 

Alaric.  (l.  c.)  Isn't  that  rotten?  I  was  a  bit 
plungy  myself.  You  know — first  one  side  and  then 
the  other.     (Yazvns) 

Mrs.  Chichester.     (Sits)     What  is  to  be  done? 

Alaric.  (l.  c.  stretching  Jiis  arms)  Get  in  forty 
winks  during  the  day,  I  suppose. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     I  mean  about  ]\Iargaret. 

Alaric.  Oh!  The  little  devil.  (Crosses  and 
sits  on  couch  l.)  Nothin'  that  I  can  see.  She's  got 
it  into  her  stubborn  little  head  that  she  means  to 
leave  us,  and  that's  the  end  of  it. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     And  the  end  of  our  income, 

Alaric.  Well,  you  were  a  bit  rough  on  her, 
Mater.  Now  I  come  to  think,  we've  all  been  a  bit 
rough  on  her,  except  me.  I  did  make  her  laugh 
once  or  twice.    Poor  little  soul !    After  all,  suppose 


io8  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

she  did  want  to  dance.  What's  the  use  of  fussinc,'? 
Let  her,  I  say.    Let  her  dance.    Let  her  dance. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    A  child  of  her  age? 

Alakic.  Child!  V\'hy,  in  America  they're 
grown  women  with  famiUes  at  her  age. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Thank  Heaven  they're  not 
in  England. 

Alaric.  No.  But  they  will  be,  Mater.  They're 
kickin'  over  the  traces  every  day.  One  time  they 
kept  to  the  pavement.  Now  they're  out  in  the  middle 
of  the  road,  and  in  thousands.     What  ho ! 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Yes.    That's  true. 

Alartc.  Bless  me,  yes.  I  know  it's  true.  I've 
met  'em.  And  some  of  'em  were  rippers.  \Miy, 
there's  one  little  woman  1  know — well,  when  I  sav 
little — she's — she's — you  might  say  magnificent 

Mrs.  CnrciiESTER.     Oh,  Alaric 

Alaric.     Well,  perhaps  you're  right. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  And  just  when  I  had  begun 
to  have  some  hope  of  her. 

Alaric.     Who  ? 

Mrs.  Chicester.     Why,  Margaret. 

Alaric.  Oh !  The  imp.  (Rises  and  goes  up  l. 
to  back  of  table  c.)  Well,  I  never  did.  Not  a  hope. 
I've  always  felt  she  ought  to  have  the  inscription 
on  dear  old  Shakespeare's  grave  waving  in  front 
of  her  ill  the  time.  How  does  it  go?  You  know. 
Mater.     "  Good  friend,  for  goodness  sake  forbear." 

Mrs.  Chichester.  But  under  our  influence — in 
time 

Alaric.  No,  no  Mater.  Peg  will  alwavs  be  a 
Peter  Pan.  (Crosses  around  table  to  u.)'  Shc'l! 
never  grow  up.  She'd  play  elfish  tricks  if  she  had 
a  nursery  full  of  infants. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Some  good  man,  some  dav. 
might  change  that. 

Alaric.  Ah !  But  where  is  he  ?  Xo.  Back  she 
goes  to-day,  and  off  I  go  to-morrow  to  work. 


PEG  O'  INIY  HEART  109 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Oh,  Alaric. 

Alaric.  Must  hold  the  roof  up,  Mater,  and  pacify 
the  tradesmen.     (Sits  R.  on  table) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (M^itli  a  sudden  thought) 
Alaric ! 

Alaric.     Yes  ? 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Do  you  like  her? 

Alaric.  Oh,  here  and  there.  She  amuses  me 
like  anything  at  times.  She  drew  a  map  of  Europe 
the  other  dav  that  was  the  most  fearful  and  wonder- 
ful thing  I  ever  saw.  Looked  like  some  marvellous 
sin.     Mostly  Ireland. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     (Rising)     Oh,  my  boy! 

Alaric.  Vv^hat  is  it?  (Rises)  You're  not  going 
to  crv? 

Mrs.  Chichester,  (l.  c,  weeps)  Oh,  if  you 
only  could ! 

Alaric.     Couldf    What? 

Mrs.  Chichester,  (c.)  Take  that  little  way- 
ward child  into  your  life  and  mould  her. 

Alaric.    Me? 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Yes. 

Alaric.  (c.)  No,  Mater.  I  can  do  most  things, 
but  as  a  "  Moulder "  oh,  no.  Let  Ethel  do  it. 
(Moves  azvay  down  r.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Following  him  dozen  r.)  I 
mean  to  take  her  really  into  your  life — to  have  and 
to  hold ! 

Alaric.    I  don't  want  to  hold  her. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  It  would  be  the  saving  of 
her. 

Alaric.  That's  all  very  well,  but  what  about 
me? 

Mrs.  Chichester.    It  would  be  the  saving  of  us. 

Alaric.  How  would  my  holding  and  moulding 
her  save  us? 

j\Irs.  Chichester.  She'd  stay  with  us  if  you 
were  engaged. 


no  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Alartc.  Enc^aged !  Don't.  Mother,  please.  (Sits 
armchair  r.,  shivers)  Good  Lord  !  Engaged  to  that 
tomboy ! 

Mrs.  Chichester,  (r.  c.)  She  has  the  blood 
of  the  Kingsnorths. 

Alaric.  Pretty  well  covered  up  in  O'Connell — 
Irish. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  She  has  the  breeding  of  my 
sister,  Angela. 

Alaric.  {In  armchair  r.)  Well,  you  wouldn't 
think  it  to  watch  her. 

Mrs.  Chichester,  (r.  c.)  And  she'll  have  five 
thousand  a  year  when  she's  twenty-one. 

.'Vlaric.  iJVhistlcs — business.         Rises     and 

looks  at  ]\Irs.  Chichester)  Five  thousand  of  the 
very  best,  eh? 

^'Irs.  Chichester.  {Embraces  him)  Oh,  my 
boy! 

Alaric.  Wait  a  minute.  One  can't  burn  all  one's 
boats. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Think  what  it  means.  Your 
family  preserved,  and  a  brand  snatched  from  the 
burning. 

Alaric.  Ah!  That's  just  it!  {Crossing  into  l. 
c.)  I  cannot  see  myself  as  a  brand-snatcher.  Be- 
sides, there's  that  little  girl  wild  about  me,  and  I 
don't  dislike  her  at  all,  and  I've  half-promised 

Mrs.  Chichester.  {Crossing  to  him)  It  would 
unite  our  blood. 

Alaric.    Oh,  hang  our  blood. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    It  would  settle  you  for  life. 

Alaric.     (l.  c.)     Yes.     It  certainly  would. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Think  what  i^  would  mean. 

Alaric.  I  am.  I'm  thinking  really  awfully  hard. 
(She  mores  to  him)  Just  a  minute!  Give  me  a 
chance,  Mater.  {Reasoning)  Of  course  she's  not 
half  bad  lookin',  here  and  there.  {Mildl\  enthu- 
siastic, sits  on  bench  l.) 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  m 

Mrs.  Chichester.    At  times  she's  beautiful. 
Alaric.     (Depressed)    She  has  a  shockin'  temper. 
Mrs.  Chichester.    That  would  soften  under  the 
restraining  hand  of  affection. 

(Alaric,   shaking  his   head,   turns   to   Mrs.   Chi- 
chester.) 

Alaric.  She'd  have  to  dress  her  hair  and  drop 
that  dog.  I  will  not  have  that  dog  all  over  the  place. 
In  that  I  would  be  obeyed. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    The  woman  who  loves  always 

obeys. 

Alaric.    Ah!    There  we  have  it.    Do^.?  she  love 

me? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  How  could  she  be  near  you 
for  the  last  month  and  not  love  you?  (Crossing 
to  him,  embracing  him) 

Alaric.  Of  course  there  is  that.  (Thinks) 
Well,  as  you  say,  if  she  loves  me— and  for  your 
sake,  Mother,— and  for  darling  Ethel's  sake— and 
for  me—zvell,  anyway,  it's  a  go  !  I'll  do  it.  (Crosses 
to  c,  straightens  up.  Mrs.  Chichester  turns  to 
him)     It'll  take  a  bit  of  doin'  but  I'll  do  it. 

(Enter  Peg  from  stairs.  She,  too,  is  pale  and 
zvorried,  her  eyes  sleepless.  When  she  see.'^ 
Mrs.  Chichester  she  stops  at  bottom  of 
stairs. ) 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Good-morning,  Margaret! 
Peg.     Good-mornin',  Ant. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Now,  Alaric.  (Puts  his  tie 
straight,  then  exit  l.) 

(Peg  looks  quickly  at  Alaric,  who  is  nervously  argu- 
ing with  himself,  his  back  to  her.  She  hurries 
to  R.  corner,  turns  piano-cover  up,  and  takes 


112  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

out  book.    Alaric  funis  and  sees  her.    She  puts 
book  under  her  arm.) 

Alaiuc.  (c.)  Hello!  What  have  we  got  there 
all  tncked  away? 

Peg.  {Hohiing  it  up)  The  only  thing  I'm  takin' 
away  that  I  didn't  bring  with  me. 

Alaric.    Oh  !    A  book  ? 

Peg.  Shiire,  you're  a  very  ![;ood  guesser  when 
you  see  a  thing.    That's  what  it  is,  a  book. 

Alaric.    You're  takin'  it  away? 

Peg.  That's  what  I  said,  Pm  takin'  it  away. 
(Crossing  behind  tabic  to  stairs) 

Alaric.  (Following  Peg)  You're  not  really 
goin'  to  leave  us,  Cousin? 

Peg.  I  am,  Cousin.  And  ye  can  forget  the 
relationship  the  minit  the  cab  drives  away  from  yer 
door.  Cousin.     (Goes  to  stairs,  stops  on  third  step) 

Alaric.  (Runs  upstairs  above  her)  Wait  a 
minute.  There's  something  I  want  to  tell  you.  Do 
you  know,  Pve  grown  really — (He  sivallozvs) 
awfuHy  fond  of  you. 

Peg.    It  nearly  choked  ye,  didn't  it? 

Alaric.  Awfully  fond  of  you.  Sit  down.  (Peg 
goes  to  sit  on  stairs)  Not  there.  Over  there. 
Someone  may  hear  us. 

Peg.  (Sitting  on  ehair  below  stairs,  looking  at 
him  wifh  a  mischievous  tzcinkle  in  her  eyes)  When 
did  ye  find  out  yc  were  fond  of  me,  Alaric? 

Alaric.  Just  now.  Over  there.  No,  over  there. 
W^hcn  the  thought  flashed  through  me  that  perhaps 
you  really  meant  to  leave  us.    The  idea  bruises  me — 

Peg.     Does  it? 

Alaric.    — positively  bruises  ! 

Peg.    You'll  get  over  that. 

Alaric.  1  don't  think  I  will.  (JVith  a  supreme 
effort)     You  know,  meeting  a  girl  like  you  day  after 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  113 

day  for  a  month  has  an  awful  effect  on  a  fellow. 

Peg.     Awful  effect? 

Alaric.  Awful !  Not  to  see  you  running  up  and 
downstairs,  lying  about  the  place,  studying  all  those 
jolly  maps  and  things,  it  hurts,  really  hurts.  (Comes 
doz.'u  to  her)  Do  you  know,  Pm  goin'  to  do  some- 
thing Pve  never  done  before  in  all  my  life. 

Peg.    Somethin'  useful? 

Alaric.  No,  no.  Pm  goin'  to  ask  a  very  charm- 
ing young  lady  to  marry  me,  eh? 

Peg.    What  do  ou  think  of  that,  now? 

Alaric.     And — who — do — you — think — it — is  ? 

Peg.     I  don't  know. 

Alaric.    Guess. 

Pea.     I  couldn't  guess  who'd  marry  you,  Alaric. 

Alaric.    Who  would  it  be  ? 

Peg.    That's  the  question,  who  would  it  be? 

Alaric.    Who  is  it? 

Peg.    Who  is  it? 

Alaric.    Who  is  it? 

Peg.    Who  is  it  ? 

Alaric.    Who  is  it? 

Peg.  Pm  asking  you.  You're  not  asking  me. 
Who  is  it  ? 

Alaric.  (With  all  the  fervor  he  can  rnii'ster) 
You. 

Peg.  Me?  (She  falls  back  against  the  balustrade, 
then  laughs  long  and  unrestrainedly) 

Alaric.  (Cheerfully)  Aha!  Laughing!  That's 
a  splendid  sign.  Splendid !  I  always  heard  that 
girls  cry  when  they're  proposed  to. 

Peg.    Fm  half  laughin'  and  half  cryin'. 

Alaric.  'course  ye  know  Pve  nothin'  to  offer 
you 

Peg.    I  know  that. 

Alaric.  — except  a  life-long  devotion,  a  decent 
old  name,  and  mv  career 

Peg.    What?  ' 


114  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Alaric.  — my  career,  when  once  I  ^et  it  goir/. 
I  on!}'  need  a  little  incentive  to  make  no  end  of  a 
sp!ash  in  the  world.  And  you'd  be  my  little  in- 
centive. 

Peg.     That's  fine. 

Alaric.  (Runs  upstairs  again  a  fezv  steps  and 
then  back)     Then  it's  all  right? 

Peg.  That's  the  most  wonderful  thing  Pve  ever 
heard  in  my  life. 

Alaric.  {Runs  upstairs  again)  Good!  Fine! 
Splendid  ! 

Peg.  Can't  you  make  up  your  mind  whether  you 
want  to  be  upstairs  or  downstairs. 

Alaric.  Of  course  there  are  one  or  two  little 
thin^^s  to  be  settled  first.  (Sits,  top  of  stairs,  facing 
front) 

Peg.     Only  one  or  two? 

Alaric.  Just  little  things.  (Emboldened  by  her 
manner)     A  little  obedience. 

Peg     You  must  obey  nic? 

Alaric     No,  no.    You  must  obey  me. 

Peg.    That's  funnier. 

Alaric.  That's  most  essential.  A  little  care 
about  ordinary  things,  such  as  dress,  speech,  hair, 
etc.,  and — no  Michael. 

Peg      Oh!     Coukln't  I  have  Michael? 

Alaric.  (Firmly)  In  that  Pm  absolutely  de- 
termined.    (Rises)     No  Michael. 

Peg.     You're  very  firm  about  it. 

Alaric.     Very  firm. 

Peg.    It  wouldn't  be,  love  me  love  my  dog? 

Alaric.  (Prepared  to  compromise)  No.  It 
would  not.  I've  never  seen  a  dog  I  loved  less  than 
Michael. 

Peg.  (Pause.  Rises  and  goes  up  level  ^uith  him) 
What  could  you  olTer  me  in  place  of  Michael? 

Alaric.  What  could  I  oiVer  you  in  place  of — ? 
Oh!     There  we  have  it,  dear  Cousin,  Myself. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  115 

Peg.    I'll  keep  my  dog. 

Alaric.    O/i,  come,  I  say !    You  don't  mean  that  f 

Peg.  I  get  more  affection  out  of  his  bark  of 
greetin'  than  Pve  ever  got  from  any  human  bein' 
in  this  house.  If  it  makes  no  difference  to  you  I'd 
rather  have  Michael. 

Alaric.    You  don't  mean  to  say  you  refuse  me? 

Peg.     I  refuse  you. 

Alaril.  You  actually  decline  my  hand  and 
heart  ? 

Peg.  I  decline  your  hand,  and  I  wouldn't  deprive 
3^ou  of  what  you've  got  left  of  a  heart. 

Alari\     (Unable  to  believe  his  ears)    Really? 

Peg.     (On  the  brink  of  laughing)     Really! 

Alaric.     Positively  ? 

Peg.     Positively ! 

Alaric.  {Overjoyed.  All  the  tension  relieved) 
I  say !    You're  a  brick  !    (Shakes  her  hand  violently) 

Peg.    Am  I? 

Alaric.  It's  really  awfully  good  of  you.  Some 
girls  in  your  position  would  have  jumped  at  me. 
(Comes  down  and  back  c.)  But  you're  a  genuine, 
hall-marked,  A-number-one  little  brick.  I'm  ex- 
tremely obliged  to  you.  (Shakes  her  zvarmly  by  tJie 
hand  over  balustrade)  You're  a  plucky  little  girl, 
that's  what  you  are.  A  plucky  little  girl.  (Goes 
towards  alcove  r.) 

Peg.    Am  I  ? 

Alaric.  (Comes  back  to  her.  She  hands  him 
book)  I'll  never  forget  it.  Never.  If  there's  any- 
thing I  can  do — at  any  time — call  on  me.  I'll  be 
there — on  the  spot.  (Puts  donni  book  on  nezvel 
post,  crosses  r.  behind  table)  Bless  you,  Cousin! 
You've  taken  an  awful  load  off  my  mind.  I  was 
really  worried.     Had  to  ask  you — promised  to. 

Peg.    Well,  I  said,  "  No."    I  refused  to  have  you. 

Alaric.  Yes.  I  know.  I  know.  Ta,  ta!  See 
you   before   you   go.      Whew!      What   an   escape! 


Ii6  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

(Hurries  out  through  alcove  r.,  into  garden.  Peg 
zvatchcs  him  go  tJirougJi  zcindoic,  a)id  hitighs) 

Peg.  But  I  said  I  wouldn't  have  you.  (Door 
L.  opens  and  Havvkes  and  Mrs.  Chichester  enter. 
Hawkes,  l.,  looks  around  for  Peg.  Peg  shakes 
hands  zviih  Havvkes)  Hello,  Mr.  Hawkes!  How 
do  ye  do? 

Hawkes.  Well,  and  how  is  our  little  protegee? 
I  declare  you're  quite  a  young  lady. 

Peg.  {Coming  doivn-stage)  Am  I?  Ask  my 
aunt. 

(Hawkes  crosses  over  to  c.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Mr.  Hawkes  wishes  to  talk 
to  3^ou,  dear. 

Peg.     And  Pd  like  to  talk  to  him. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Margaret!  Why  do  you  al- 
ways have  your  hair  over  your  eyes?  Excuse  me, 
Mr.  Hawkes.  {To  door  l.)  Oh,  it's  hopeless. 
{Exit  L.) 

Peg.  {Comes  and  sits  on  bench)  I  tell  you,  if 
I  ever  cut  my  hair  off  her  occupation  will  be  gone. 
I  have  to  pin  it  up,  and  band  it  up.  My  father  used 
to  cut  it  every  six  months,  and  that's  ail  the  trouble 
we  had  with  it. 

Hawkes.  What's  all  this  nonsense  about  your 
going  away? 

Peg.     Pm  going  back  to  my  father. 

Hawkes.     Why  are  you  going  back  to  him? 

Peg.     Pm  going  back. 

Hawkes.     Aren't  you  happy  here? 

Pec.    Devil  a  bit. 

HaVv'kes.     What's  the  trouble? 

Peg.    All  the  men  have  gone  crazy  in  this  house. 

Hawkes.     Has  anyone  been  making  iuve  to  vou? 

Peg.    Yes.    Two  of  them. 

Hawkes.     What? 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  117 

Peg.  One  man  tried  to  kiss  me  and  I  slapped 
his  face 

Hawkes,    Good. 

Peg.  The  other  man  asked  me  to  marry  him  and 
I  sassed  him. 

Hawkes.    Who  was  it? 

Peg.    Alaric. 

Hawkes.     What  did  you  say  to  him? 

Peg.     I  told  him  Pd  rather  have  Michael. 

Hawkes.    Michael? 

Peg.  .  Yes.    My  dog. 

Hawkes.  (Laughing)  Oh,  the  dog.  So  you 
refused  him? 

Peg.  Of  course.  What  would  I  be  doing  marry- 
ing Alaric? 

Hawkes.     Oh,  I  don't  know.     Is  he  too  young? 

Peg.  Too  young,  too  silly,  and  too  selfish.  And 
everything  I  don't  like  in  a  man  Alaric  is. 

Hawkes.     And  what  do  you  like  in  a  man? 

Peg.     Precious  little. 

Hawkes.  Listen,  my  dear  Miss  O'Connell.  Pm 
speaking  now  as  your  late  uncle's  friend,  and  your 
well-wisher.  You've  a  wonderful  chance  here. 
Remain  with  Mrs.  Chichester.  Continue  your  course 
of  training.  Then  marry.  Marry  in  England.  And 
uphold  the  dignity  and  traditions  of  the  Kingsnorths. 

Peg.  There's  not  a  man  in  the  world  Pd  marry 
now. 

Hawkes.  Really,  Miss  O'Connell,  your  future 
would  then  be  absolutely  assured.  {Taking  her 
hand)     Come,  now.     Marry  here. 

Peg.     Are  you  proposing  to  me? 

Hawkes.  {Laughingly)  Well,  I  didn't  mean  to, 
but  now  you  suggest  it 

Peg.     I  suggest  it? 

Hawkes.  You're  alone  in  the  world.  Pm  alone 
in  the  world. 

Peg.     (Rises  and  goes  to  staircase)     And  as  far 


ii8  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

as  I'm  concerned  you'll  stay  alone  in  the  world.  Fin 
going  to  get  out  of  this  crazy  house.    You're  all  mad. 

Hawkes.  You're  determined  to  go  back  to 
America  ? 

Peg.  Yes,  I  am.  And  I  was  going  to  ask  you  to 
buy  me  a  passage  on  the  steamer. 

Hawkes.  {Comes  to  foot  of  stairs)  I'll  see  that 
a  passage  is  reserved  for  you,  and  will  escort  you 
down  to  the  steamer  myself. 

Peg.     Thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Hawkes. 

(Mrs.  Chichester  enters  ivith  Jerry.) 

Mrs.  Chichester.    Margaret. 

Jerry.     {Going  to  foot  of  stairs)     Peg. 

Peg.  (Looking  at  Jerry)  I'm  going  back  to 
my  father  in  half-an-hour. 

Jerry.     In  half-an-hour? 

Peg.    Yes.    In  thirty  minutes.     {Exit  l.) 

Jerry.  {Turning  to  Hawkes)  What  does  she 
mean,  Hawkes,  by  going  in  thirty  minutes? 

Hawkes.  She's  returning  to  America.  She  ap- 
pears absolutely  discontented  here.  I've  reasoned 
with  her,  but  she  seems  determined  to  go.  {Goes 
a  little  R.) 

{Enter  Alaric.) 

Alaric.  Hello,  Jerry!  (Alaric  shakes  hands 
zvith  Hawkes,     They  talk) 

Jerry.  Hello,  A1  !  (7^7<r;j.y /o  Mrs.  Chichester) 
I  was  entirely  to  blame  for  last  night's  unfortunrite 
business.     It  was  my  fault. 

Mrs.  Chichester'.  I've  tried  to  tell  her  I'd  over- 
look it,  but  she  insists  on  returning  to  America  at 
once.  (Enter  Jakvis.  earning  doicnstairs  ivith  dog 
and  bundle.  Mrs.  Chichester  turns  to  Jarvis) 
Where  are  you  going  with  these? 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  119 

Jarvis.  To  put  them  in  a  cab,  ma'am.  Miss 
O'tonnclVs  orders. 

Mrs.  Ciiictiester.  Put  those  articles  in  a  bag. 
Use  one  of  my  daughter's. 

Jarvis.  Miss  O'Connell  objects,  ma'am.  Says 
she'll  take  nothing  away  she  didn't  bring  with  her. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  (Crosses  to  armchair)  That 
will  do. 

(Alaric  drops  dozvn  r.  to  armchair.    Jarvis  exit  l. 
Alaric  and  Jerry  look  at  each  other.) 

Alaric.  Never  mind,  Mater.  It  can't  be  helped. 
We've  done  our  best.  I  know  I  have — even  offered 
to  marry  her  if  she'd  stay. 

Hawkes.     So  I  believe. 

Jerry.    You  offered  to  marry  her? 

j\laric.     Yes. 

Jerry.     What  did  she  say? 

Hawkes.  {Comes  dozen  r.  c.)  Yes,  what  did 
she  say? 

Alaric.  {Confusedly)  Oh!  Er — er — what  did 
she  say  ?  Oh,  yes.  The  little  beggar  laughed  in  my 
face.     Said  she'd  rather  have  jMichael. 

{All  laugh  except  Mrs.   Chichester.) 

Hawkes.  Now,  Sir  Gerald.  My  duties  in  regard 
to  iNliss  O'Connell  end  to-day.  Good-bye.  {Start- 
ing to  door  L.) 

Jerry.     I  think  not,  Hawkes. 

Hawkes.  {Turning  to  Jerry)  I  beg  your 
pardon. 

Jerry.  I  must  be  satisfied  that  the  conditions  of 
the  late  Mr.  Kingsnorth's  will  are  complied  with, 
in  the  spirit  as  well  as  to  the  letter.  Remember,  I 
am  the  chief  executor. 

Alaric.  {By  high  chair)  What!  An  executor! 
Oh.  fancv  that,  Mater.    Executor! 


120  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

Hawkes.     Exactly,  and- 


Jei^rv.  He  expressly  stipulated  that  a  year  was 
to  elapse  before  any  definite  conclusion  was  arrived 
at.     So  far  only  a  month  has  gone  hy. 

Hawkes.  But  she  seems  determined  to  return  to 
her  father. 

Alaric.     I  never  saw  anyone  so  determined. 

Jerry.  Have  vou  told  her  the  conditions  of  the 
will  ? 

Hawkes.  Why,  no.  Mr.  Kingsnorth  distinctly 
stated  that  she  was  not  to  know  them. 

Jerry.  {Behind  chair  l.  of  table)  Except  under 
exceptional  circumstances.  Well,  I  consider  the 
circumstances  most  exceptional,  and  I  intend  to  make 
known  the  conditions  to  Miss  O'Connell  and  then  let 
her  decide  as  to  whether  she  wishes  to  abide  by  them 
or  not. 

Hawkes.  (c.)  As  a  lawyer  I  must  strongly 
object  to  such  a  course. 

Alaric.  I  should  say  so,  indeed.  What  on  earth 
do  you  want  to  do  a  silly  thing  like  that  for,  Jerry? 

Mrs.   Chicpiester.     Absolutely  unnecessary! 

Hawkes.    Entirely  uncalled  for  ! 

Alaric.     Stupid.     Deuced  stupid ! 

Jerry.  I  don't  think  so,  Alaric.  In  my  opinion 
Margaret  ought  to  be  told. 

Alaric.    Ought  to  be  told  !    Tush  and  nonsense  ! 

Jerry.  {Coming  to  c.)  I  intend  telling  her  why 
she  was  brought  here,  and  what  Mr.  Kingsnorth 
wished  should  be  done  for  her. 

Alaric.     I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     It's  absurd. 

Jerry.  Is  it?  Do  you  think  you  have  treated  her 
quite  fairly? 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Fairly? 

Jerry.  Yes.  Fairly.  Pardon  me  speaking  in  this 
way,  but  I  am  responsible  to  a  certain  extent  for 
her  being  here.     It  was  at  my  suggestion  that  your 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  121 

late  brother  decided  to  give  you  the  first  opportunity 
of  taking  care  of  her.  You  have  benefited  by  the 
arrangenient,  haven't  you?  Come!  Think!  What 
have  vou  done  for  her  in  return  ? 

Mrs.  Chichfster.  What  more  could  I  have 
done  ? 

Alaric.    Or  I? 

Jerry.  Well,  for  one  thing,  you  might  at  least 
have  tried  to  make  this  a  home  for  her.  If  you 
had,  she  would  not  be  going  away  now. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  How  could  I  make  it  a  home 
for  such  a  girl  as  she  is? 

Alaric.     I  should  think  not.     Home,  indeed! 

Jerry.    I  suppose  it  was  out  of  the  question. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Absolutely. 

Alaric.     I  should  say  so. 

Jerry.  Very  well.  {To  Hawkes)  Then  it  is 
our  duty  to  find  some  other  lady  who  will  carry  out 
Mr.  Kingsnorth's  wishes.  Under  those  circum- 
stances she  may  be  persuaded  to  remain  in  England. 

Mrs.  Chichester.    What? 

Alaric.    There  goes  our  thousand-a-year,  Mater. 

{Enter  Peg  and  Ethel  coming  dozvnstairs.) 

Ethel.     Peg,  don't  go. 

Peg.  The  cab's  at  the  door.  There's  nothing  to 
keep  me  here  now.  {Crossing  to  Mrs.  Chichester) 
Good-bye,  Mrs.  Chichester.  Pm  sorry  Pve  been  so 
much  trouble. 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Good-bye,  Margaret.  {Point- 
ing to  her  dress)  But  why  this  dress?  Why  not 
one  of  the  dresses  I  gave  you? 

Peg.  This  is  the  way  I  left  my  father — this  is 
the  way  Pm  going  back  to  him.     Good-bye,  Alaric. 

Alaric.     Good-bye,  you  Httle  devil. 

{They  shake  hands.) 


122  TEG  O'  :.IY  HEART 

Peg.     Good-bye,  sir. 

TcuRY.  (c.)  '  One  moment,  please.  Have  you 
ever  wondered  at  the  real  reason  why  you  were 
brought  to  this  house,  and  the  extraordinary  in- 
terest taken  in  you  by  relatives  who,  until  a  month 
ago  had  never  bothered  about  even  your  existence  ? 

Peg.     Yes.     I  have  wondered. 

Jerry.  {Impatiently)  First  of  all  I  must  in- 
troduce myself  to  you  in  a  new  capacity — as  the 
executor  of  your  late  uncle's  will.  One  of  his 
keenest  wishes  was  to  atone  in  some  way  for  his 
unkindness  to  your  mother. 

Peg.  Nothing  could  do  that.  "  Ye've  made  yer 
bed,  lie  in  it,"  "was  what  he  wrote  to  my  mother 
when  she  was  starvin',  and  why  ?  Because  she  loved 
my  father.  Well,  I  love  my  father,  and  if  he 
thought  his  money  could  separate  us  he's  very  much 
mistaken.     No  man  can  separate  us — no  dead  man. 

Jerry.  In  justice  to  yourself  you  must  know 
that  he  set  aside  the  sum  of  one  thousand  pounds  a 
year  to  be  paid  to  the  lady  who  would  undertake 
your  training. 

(PIawkes  sifs  by  desk.) 

Peg.  a  thousand  pounds  a  year?  {To  ]\Irs. 
Chichester)     You  got  paid  for  abusing  me? 

Jerry.  {By  table)  No.  For  taking  care  of  you. 
I  tell  you  this  because  I  don't  want  you  to  feel  that 
you  have  been  living  on  charity.     You  haven't. 

Peg.  (c.)  Pve  been  made  to  feel  it.  {To  j\Irs. 
Chichester)  Who  are  ye,  Pd  like  to  know,  to 
bring  me  up  any  better  than  my  father?  I  want  you 
to  know  that  my  father  is  just  as  much  a  gentleman 
as  you  are.  He  never  hurt  a  girl's  feelings  just  be- 
cause she  didn't  have  any  money.  Pd  like  to  know 
if  it's  a  crime  not  to  have  any  money.  {Crosses 
over  to  Ethel) 


PEG  O  'MY  HEART  123 

Etiifx.  (l.  c.)  Don't  cry,  dear.  You  have 
literally  fed  and  housed  us  for  the  last  month.  The 
day  you  came  here  we  were  beggars. 

Peg.  (Looks  up  at  her  in  astonishment)  Ye 
were  beggars? 

Ethel.  Yes.  We  have  nothing  but  the  provision 
made  for  your  training. 

Peg.    And  will  ye  have  nothing  if  I  go  away? 

Ethel.     Nothing. 

Peg.  Is  that  what  ye  meant  last  night  by  the 
roof  over  ye?  (Ethel  cJiecks  her)  And  I  was 
drivin'  ye  to  it.  (Ethel  drops  her  eyes)  Well,  I 
wouldn't  see  ye  a  beggar  for  the  world,  Ethel.  I've 
been  raised  one,  and  I  know  what  it's  like.  Bring  in 
my  bundles  and  my  dog.  I've  changed  my  mmd. 
I'm  going  to  stay  here.  (Peg  sits  by  table.  Ethel 
crosses  behind  table  to  R.  c.) 

Jerry.  (Corning  dozvn)  That  is  just  what  I 
would  have  expected  yon  to  do,  but  there's  no  need 
for  such  a  sacrifice.  I  came  here  this  morning  with 
some  very  good  news  for  you,  Mrs.  Chichester.  I 
happen  to  hold  some  shares  in  Gilford's  Bank,  and 
I  am  happy  to  say  it  will  shortly  reopen  its  doors. 

Alaric.  (Dozen  to  r.  of  Mrs.  Chichester) 
Reopen  its  doors !  So  it  jolly- well  ought  to.  What 
right  had  it  to  close  'em?  That's  what  I  want  to 
know. 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Oh,  Ethel — Alaric. 

Alaric.  (r.)  Now,  Mater,  listen  to  me.  Every 
ha'penny  goes  out  of  Gi fiord's  Bank  and  into  some- 
thing that's  got  a  bottom  to  it.  In  future  I'll  manage 
the  business  of  this  family. 

Peg.  (Rises)  That  settles  that.  You  don't  need 
me  any  more.  Good-day  to  yez.  (Starts  to  go. 
PIawkes  rises  to  open  door  for  her) 

Jerry.  (Stopping  her)  Just  a  moment.  There 
is  just  one  more  condition  of  ^Ir.  Kingsnorth's  will, 
that  you  must  know.     Should  you  go  through  your 


124  PEG  O'  .MY  HEART 

course  of  traininc^  satisfactorily  to  the  a^e  of  twenty- 
one  you  will  inherit  the  sum  of  five  thousand  a  year. 

Peg.  I  get  five  thousand  pounds  a  year  when 
I'm  twenty-one?  No  wonder  all  the  men  were  mad 
to  marry  me  this  morning.  {Looking  at  Alaric) 
I  might  forgive  you,  Alaric.  (Looking  at  Hawkes) 
But  I'd  like  to  know  what  you  meant,  Mr.  Hawkes. 

Hawkes.  (By  door,  turning)  Oh,  nonsense! 
Come,  now,  Miss  O'Connell 

Jerry.  Did  you  propose  to  Miss  O'Connell,  too? 
(Turning  to  Hawkes) 

Hawkes.  [Hesitatingly)  Well — er — in  a 
measure. 

Pec.     Yes.     It  was  very  measured. 

Hawkes.  It  seemed  to  be  an  admirable  solution 
of  the  difficulty. 

Peg.    He's  a  solution,  he  is. 

Hawkes.     Well,  there's  no  harm  done. 

Peg.     No.     It  didn't  go  through,  did  it? 

Hawkes.  No.  Always  your  friend  and  well- 
wisher. 

Peg.    But  never  my  husband. 

Hawkes.  Unfortunately,  no.  Good-day,  every- 
body. I  will  wait  to  escort  you  to  the  boat,  ]\Iiss 
O'Connell.     (Exit  l.) 

Jerry.  Now,  may  I  have  a  few  minutes  alone 
with  my  ward  ? 

Mrs.  Chichester.     Certainly. 

Peg.     Your  what? 

Jerry.     Ward. 

Peg.    Who's  that?    Me? 

Jerry.  I  am  your  legal  guardian — appointed  by 
Mr.  Kingsnorth. 

Peg.  Shareholder  in  a  bank,  executor  of  an 
estate,  and  now  you're  my  guardian.  What  do  vou 
do  with  your  spare  time? 

Jerry.     (To  the  others)     Just  a  second,  please. 


FEG  O'  MY  HEART  125 

(Mrs.   Chichester   crosses   to   go   upstairs.     Peg 
stops  her.) 

Peg.  Aunt  Monica,  would  you  mind  very  much 
saying  "  Good-bye  "  to  me  ? 

Mrs.  Chichester.  Certainly  not.  Good-bye, 
Margaret.  It  is  unlikely  we'll  meet  again.  I  hope 
you  have  a  safe  journey.  {Exit  upstairs.  Alaric 
crosses  l.  c.) 

{Lights  ^slowly  down.) 

Alaric.  {Lounging  over  to  Peg)  Jolly  decent 
of  ye  to  offer  to  stay  here — awfully  decent.  You 
are  certainly  a  wonder.     Miss  you  terribly. 

Peg.  Did  you  know  about  that  five  thousand, 
Alaric? 

Alaric.  'course  I  did.  That  was  why  I  proposed. 
To  save  the  roof. 

Peg.  Ye'd  have  sacrificed  yerself  by  marryin' 
me? 

Alaric.     Like  a  shot. 

Peg.     There's  a  great  hero  lost  in  you,  Alaric. 

Alaric.  {Crosses  to  door  l.)  Oh,  I  mustn't 
boast.     It's  all  in  the  family. 

Peg.    Well  I'm  glad  you  didn't  have  to  do  it. 

Alaric.    So  am  I. 

Peg.  Don't  get  sassy.  (Exit  Alaric.  Peg  looks 
at  Ethel.  To  Jerry)  Look  out  of  the  window  a 
minute,  please.  {Pointing  to  ivindows  c.)  I  want 
to  speak  to  Ethel.  (Jerry  goes  to  ivindows  c. 
Peg  crosses  to  Ethel)    Is  that  all  over? 

Ethel.    Yes. 

Peg.     You're  never  going  to  see  him  again? 

Ethel.  Never.  I'll  write  him  that.  What  must 
you  think  of  me? 

Peg.  I  thought  of  ye  all  last  night.  Ye  seem  like 
someone  lookin'  for  happiness  in  the  dark  with  yer 


126  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

eyes  shut.    Open  them  wide,  dear.    Look  at  the  sitii- 
h'ght  and  ye'll  know  happiness. 

'  Ethel.    I  feel  to-day  that  I'll  never  know  happi- 
ness. 

Peg.  I've  felt  like  that  ever  since  Pve  been  in 
this  house.  I  tell  you,  three  meals  a  day,  a  soft 
bed  to  si  ape  in,  and  every  thin'  ye  want,  makes  ye 
mighty  discontented,  so  it  does. 

Ethel.  Last  ni.^rht  you  saved  me  from  myself, 
and  then  you  shielded  me  from  my  family. 

Peg.  Ed  do  that  for  any  poor  girl — much  less  my 
ovv'n  cousin. 

Ethel.  (Crosses  to  door.  Turns  to  Peg)  Don't 
think  too  hardly  of  me. 

Peg.  I  don't  dear.  Sure,  it  wasn't  your  fault.  It 
was  your  mother's. 

Ethel.     My  mother's? 

Peg.  Yes.  She  doesn't  understand  children. 
You  can't  raise  them  in  a  hothouse.  You've  got  to 
thrust  them  out  into  the  cold  wind  and  let  them  get 
used  to  it  while  they're  young.  I  had  the  advantage 
of  you  all  the  time.  It  isn't  every  girl  has  the 
bringing  up  I  had  from  my  father.    Good-bye,  Ethel. 

Ethel.     Good-bye,  dear.     (Cries) 

Peg.  Don't  do  that,  dear.  Don't  cry.  (Sud- 
denly takes  Ethel  in  her  arms  and  kisses  her) 

Ethel.     (Goes  to  door,  turns)     Good-bye,  Peg. 

Peg.  Good-bye,  Ethel.  God  bless  you !  (Ethel 
exit  l.)     All  right.    The  door  is  shut. 

Jerry.  (Coining  down  and  round  table  r.  to  c.) 
Are  you  still  determined  to  go. 

Peg.    I  am. 

Jerry.     And  you'll  leave  here  without  a  regret? 

Peg.     (Looks  doz^n)     1  didn't  say  that,  did  I  ? 

Jerry.    We've  been  good  friends/haven't  we? 

Peg.  I  thought  we  were,  but  friendship  must  be 
honest.    Why  didn't  ye  tell  me  ye  had  a  title  ?    How 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  127 

could  I  know  you  were  a  gentleman?  Sure,  Jerry 
nii;<ht  mean  anybody. 

Jepry.    Are  we  never  to  play  like  children  again? 

Peg.     No.     We're  not  equals. 

Jerry.     Would  nothing  make  you  stay? 

Peg.     Nothing.     Pm  aching  for  my  home. 

Jerry.     Peg!     (Conies  forzvard  to  her) 

Peg.    Sir  Gerald ! 

Jerry.     {Tenderly)     Peg,  my  dear 

Peg.  Are  you  goin'  to  propose,  too?  (Jerry 
straightens  up,  hurt,  and  crosses  to  r.  c.)  What  the 
devil  made  me  say  that?     (Pause) 

(Enter  Jarvis  l.) 

Jarvis.  Mr.  Hawkes  says  if  you're  goin'  to  catch 
the  train.  Miss 

Peg.  All  right.  Pll  catch  the  train.  (Jarvis 
exit)  It's  my  Irish  tongue,  I  suppose.  (Creeps 
quietly  to  door  l.,  rattles  knob  to  attract  Jerry's 
attention,  then  goes  out  of  door) 

(Lightning  and  thunder.  Jerry  stands  still,  passes 
the  hack  of  his  hand  across  his  eyes.  Goes  to 
ivindow  R.,  and  looks  tozvards  the  lane.  It  is 
nozv  very  much  darker.  Suddenly  the  pent-up 
storm  breaks  with  redoubled  fury.  The  rain 
comes  in  torrents.  Lightning  and  thunder  fol~ 
lozv  in  quick  succession.  Door  l.  opens  and  Peg 
staggers  in  half -fainting,  shuts  the  door  quickl-, 
and  leans  against  the  door,  deathly  white,  and 
trembling  with  fear.  Jerry  turns',  gives  a  cry, 
and  hurries  to  her.) 

Jerry.     Peg ! 

Peg.    Shut  it  out!    Shut  the  storm  out !     (Jerry 
draws  the  blinds.     Faintly)     I'm  sorry  for  what  I 


128  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

said  just  now.  You're  not  going  to  be  cross  with 
me  about  that,  are  you? 

Jerry,  (l.)  I  couldn't  be  cross  with  you.  Peg. 
I  iove  you.     Be  my  wife. 

Peg.  Don't  be  mad  if  I  ask  ye,  but  have  ye 
proposed  to  me  now  ? 

Jerry.    I  have.    Be  my  wife. 

Peg.    Ye  have  a  title,  Jerry. 

Jerry.     Share  it  with  me. 

Peg.     Ye'll  be  ashamed  of  me. 

Jerry.     I  love  you. 

Peg.    Do  ye  love  me? 

Jerry.    I  do. 

Peg.    I  love  you,  too,  I  do. 

Jerry.  (Starting  tozvard  her)  Peg,  my  dear — 
(Stops  and  hesitates) 

Peg.    Go  on.    Go  on.    What's  the  matter? 

(Lightning.) 

Jerry.    \\'hy,  Peg,  what  will  your  father  say? 

Peg.  My  father  always  said :  "  Sure,  there's 
nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life  as  love's  young  dream." 
(Loud  crash  of  thunder.  She  hides  her  head  on 
Jerry's  shoulder.  Thunder  and  ligJitning  till  final 
curtain) 

The  curtain  falls 

THE  end  of  the  COMEDY 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART 


J  29 


I30  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

PEG  O'  i\IY  HEART 

ACT  I 

FURNITURE  AND  PROPERTY  PLOT 

Large  blue  velvet  pile  carpet  to  cover  stage. 
Landing  and  stair  carpet  of  the  same  material. 
Small  oblong  oak  table.     On  this 

Bronzed  brass  jardiniere  containing  4  ft.  real 

palm. 

Various  pieces  of  music. 
Large  oak  tapestry-seated  high  arm-chair. 
Oak-stained  Baby  Grand  Piano.    On  this 

Tapestry  piano  cover, 

Various  sheets  of  music, 

One  red  book, 

Bronze  figure  of  Cupid, 

Brass  basket  containing  flowers, 

Bronze  photo  frame  with  photo, 

China  bowl  containing  artificial  fern, 

Gilt  wooden  standard  lamp,  with 

Cream  flowered  silk  shade. 
Three    bound   books,   "  Reader  ",   "  History  ",   and 

"  Geography  ". 
Oak  cane-seated  duet  piano  stool. 
Brown-plush-seated  oak  arm-chair. 
Circular  oak  cane-topped  table.     On  tJiis 

Bronzed  brass  jardiniere  containing  4  ft.  real 
palm. 
Circular  oak  pedestal.     On  this 

Bronzed     brass     jardiniere     containing     two- 
h.andled  bronze  vase. 
Long  tapestry  squab  scat  to  window. 
Tapestry  valance  and  drapery.     O71  this 

Two  tapestry  cushions. 

Two  blue  plush  cushions. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  131 

Small  circular  oak  pedestal.    On  this 

4  ft.  real  palm. 
Piece  of  blue  drapery. 
Small  circular  oak  pedestal.    On  this 

Small  brass  jardiniere  containing  4  ft.  real  palm. 
Oblong  oak-and-cane  writing-table.     On  this , 

Leather-and-brass  blotting-pad, 

Brass  blotter, 

Brass  almanac, 

Brass  two-well  inkstand, 

Pens  and  pencil, 

Wooden  photo- frame  and  photo, 

Japanese  cigarette-box  and  cigarettes, 

Brass  ash-tray, 

Brass  match-stand  and  matches, 

Notepaper  and  envelopes, 

Small  bronze  vase. 

Small  standard  lamp  with  green  silk-and-beads 
shade. 

Small  calatogue  of  ladies*  dresses. 
Small  oak  tapestry-seated  square  stool. 
Blue  wicker  waste-paper  basket. 
Oblong  oak  bench  with  cane  top.     On  this 

Tapestry  squab  seat  for  same. 
Large  oblong  oak  table.     On  this 

Four  monthlv  magazines, 

One  "Ladies'  Field"  (Periodical), 

Brass    book-holder,    containing    twelve    bound 
books. 

Large  atlas. 

Brass  ash-tray. 

Brass  match-stand  and  matches, 

Japanese  cigarette-box  and  cigarettes, 

Wicker  work-basket  and  utensils. 
Large  oak  cane-seated  arm-chair. 
Oak  cane-seated  tall  chair.     On  this 

Tapestry  squab  seat. 
Oak  cane-seated  tall  chair.     On  this 


132  PEG  O'  AIY  HEART 

Tapestry  squab  seat. 
Small  oak  cane-seated  arm-chair.     On  this 

Tapestry  cushion  seat. 
French-  windows,  shut. 
Creeper  on  balustrade-piece. 
On  staircase 

Large  brass  jardiniere, 

Tall  standard  lamp  with 

Large  pink  silk  shade, 

Large  tapestry  arm-chair. 
On  zvalls 

Five  pairs  of  blue  plush  curtains, 

Five  oak  box-headings  for  the  same, 

Poles,  rings,  etc.,  for  the  same, 

Three  gilt-framed  large  oil-paintings, 

Two  two-light  brass  brackets. 

Four  blue  silk-and-bead  shades  for  the  same, 

Old  English  hall-lamp. 

Brass  switch  for  same, 

\\'ooden  electric-bell  push, 

Brass-and-ebony  switch  for  lights. 

Pair  of  cream  casement-cloth  curtains    (Half- 
drawn). 

Cords,  pole,  rings,  etc.,  for  the  same, 

Twelve  red-geranium  plants  outside  window. 

HAND  PROPERTIES 

Small  silver  salver  for  Jarvis. 

Bank  letter  for  Jarvis. 

"  Morning  Post"  for  Ethel. 

Gent's  visiting  card  for  Jarvis. 

Small  canvas  bag  for  Peg. 

Small  common  purse  for  Peg,  containing 

Gent's  visiting  card. 
Small  brown-paper  parcel  for  Peg,  containing 

Small  hair-brush, 

Small  comb, 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  133 

Small  Catholic  Prayer-book, 

Small  dog's  collar, 

Small  rosary, 

Small  old-fashioned  photo  in  case. 
The  dog,  Michael. 
Small    bundle   legal   documents    for   Mr.    Hawkes, 
containing 

Will,  and  blue  foolscap,  written. 
Leather  card-case  and  cards  for  ]^dr.  Hawkes. 
Cigarette-case  and  cigarettes  for  Abrlc. 
Ivory  cigarette-holder  for  Alaric. 
The  dog^  FlufTy,  for  Ethel. 

Targe  bunch  of  red  and  white  roses  for  Jarvis. 
Door-slam  effect  ofif  l. 
Lunch-gong  ekect  off  l. 
Thunder  sheet. 

Drum  and  beater  for  thundcr-roU. 
Rain  barrel. 

ELECTRIC  LIGHT  PLOT 

No  ceiling  batten. 

Large  circular  amber  in  footlights  full  up. 
Reflector  amber  in  foolights  full  up. 
Large  amber  in  back  batten  ^  up. 
Four  large  amber  lengths  on  back  cloth 


h 


One  small  amber  length  to  staircase. 
One  small  amber  length  to  window  R. 
At  cue,  Peg's  exit, 

Reflector  circuit  in   footlights  down  to  }i  up. 

Large  circuit  in  back  batten  down  to  Vi  up, 

All  lengths  slowly  out. 
At  cue,  ''My  aunt  is  Mrs.  Chichester", 

Reflector  circuit  in  footlights  slowly  up  to  fu^^ 

All  lengths  slowly  up  to  full. 

Large  circuit  in  back  batten  slowly  up  to  full. 

Small  circuit  in  back  batten  slowly  up  to  full. 
At  cue,  zvhen  Jerry  pulls  open  curtains, 


134  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

2n(l   large   circuit   amber   in   footlights    full-up 

suddenly, 
Lightning  effect  for  storm  as  per  cues  in  script. 


LIME  PLOT 

One  arc  on  back-cloth  P.  S.  No.  17,  flood,  frosted 

glass. 
One  arc  on  back-cloth  O.  P.  No.  17,  flood,  frosted 

glass. 
One  arc  on  alcove-landing  O.  P.  flies  No.  17,  focus, 

frosted  glass. 
One  arc  through  window  R.  on  staircase  No.   19. 

thin  frost,  focus. 
One  arc  through  window  r.  on  to  door  L.  No.  19, 

thin  frost,  focus. 
At  cue,  Peg's  exit, 

All  arcs  slowly  out. 
At  cue,  ''My  aunt  is  Mrs.  Chichester", 

All  arcs  slowly  up  again. 


ACT  II 

SCENE   I 

FURNITURE  AND  PROPERTY  PLOT 

Same  as  Act  I,  with  the  foUozcing  cxccptioyis— 
All  curtains  drawn, 
Bowl  of  rosebuds  on  table  c, 
Flowers  changed  in  vases, 
Plush  cushion  on  bench, 
French  windows  oj)en.  '* 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  I35 

HAND  PROPERTIES 

Lare    bound    book,    "The    Love    Stories    of    the 

World  ",  for  Peg. 

Dog-fight  off  L., 

Silver  salver  for  Jarvis. 

Written  note  for  Jarvis. 

Clock  strike  off  L.  (9). 
Band  stands  ready  for  band  under  stage. 

ELECTRIC  LIGHT  PLOT 

Three  circuits  amber  in  footlights  full  up. 
No.  3  batten  brailed  close  to  No.  4,  and 
Both  circuits  green  full  up. 
Small  amber  length  to  staircase, 
Standard  lamp  on  staircase  alight, 

Piano  lamp  alight, 

Writing-desk  lamp  alight. 

Both  brackets  alight, 

Hall  lamp  alight. 

LIME  PLOT 

One  arc  on  back-cloth  P.  S.  No.  11,  frost,  flood. 
One  arc  on  back-cloth  O.  P.  No.  11,  frost,  flood. 
One  arc  on  alcove-landing  O.  P.,  flies. 


ACT  II 

SCENE  II 

FURNITURE  AND  PROPERTY  PLOT 

Same  as  Scene  I,  with  the  curtains  all  open. 
French  windows  shut. 


136  TEG  C  MY  Hl-.ART 

HAND  PROPERTIES 

Small  handbag  for  Ethel  with  jewel  bag  inside. 
Electric  flash-torch  for  Alaric. 
Electric  candle  for  Mrs.  Chichester. 
Glass  of  water  for  Jerry. 
Smelling-salts  bottle  for  AJaric. 

ELECTRIC  LIGHT  PLOT 

No  lights  on  stage,  zi'itJi  the  exception  of 

Three  50-candle-power  reflector  lamps  in  green 
in  footlights  R.  c.  alight. 
At  cue,  When  Alaric  turns  ^zvitch  on, 

Three  amber  circuits  in  footlights  full  up. 

Both  brackets  full  up, 

Piano  lamp   full  up, 

Desk  lamp  full  up. 

LIME  PLOT 

Same  as  Scene  I,  zcith  the  addition  of, 

One  arc  through  window  r.  on  staircase,  No. 

II,  frost,  focus, 
One  arc  through  window  r.  on  door  l,,   Xo. 
II,  frost,  focus. 


ACT  III 

FURNITURE  AND  PROPERTY  PLOT 

Same  as  previous  scenes,  luith  the  addition  of, 
Rose  petals  on  table  c.  and  on  floor 
French  windows  open, 
Bunch  of  wild  flowers  in  vase  on  desk. 


PEG  O'  MY  HEART  137 

HAND  PROPERTIES 


"  Morning  Post  "  for  Alaric. 

Peg's  bag,  parcel,  and  dog,  for  Jarvis. 

Thunder  sheet. 

Drum  for  rolls. 


ELECTRIC  LIGHT  PLOT 

Three  circuits  amber  in  footlights  full  up. 
Two  circuits  amber  in  back  batten  full  up. 
Four  large  lengths  amber  on  back-cloth  full  up. 
Two  small  lengths  amber  on  staircase  and  window 

full  up. 
Lightning  effect  as  in  Act  I. 
At  cue,  Mrs.  Cliichesfer's  exit, 

Reflector  circuit  in  footlights  slowly  down  to 

Large  circuit  in  footlights  slowly  out, 
Small  circuit  in  back  batten  slowly  out, 
Large  circuit  in  back  batten  slowly  down   to 

J4  up- 
All  lengths  slowly  out. 


LIME  PLOT 

One  arc  on  back-cloth  P.  S.  No.  17,  frost,  flood. 
One  arc  on  back-cloth  O.  P.  No.  17,  frost,  flood. 
One  arc  on  alcove-landing  O  P.  flies  No.  17,  frost, 

focus. 
One  arc  through  window  r.  on  to  staircase  No.  19, 

frost,  focus. 
One  arc  through  window  r.  on  to  door  l.  No.  19, 

frost,  focus. 
At  cue,  Mrs.  Chichester's  exit, 
All  arcs  slowly  out. 


^:8  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 

DRESS  PLOT 

Jerry. 

Act  I.  Riding  suit.  Jacket,  waistcoat,  breeches, 
Ic^^gings. 

Act     II.  Scene  I.    Evening  dress,  full. 

Act    II.  Scene  II.     Overcoat,  hat,  muffler. 

Act  III.  Lounge  suit.    Jacket,  waistcoat,  trousers. 

Alamic. 

Act  I.  Golfing  suit.  Jacket,  waistcoat,  breeches, 
stoclvings,  brown  shoes. 

Act     II.  Scene  I.    Evening  dress  (Dinner  jacket). 

Act  II.  Scene  11.  Dressing-gown,  pyjamas,  slip- 
pers. 

Act  III.  Tennis  dress.  Jacket,  waistcoat,  flannels, 
white  shoes. 

Mr.  Hawkes. 

Act  I.  Morning  dress.  Morning  coat,  black 
waistcoat,  gray  trousers. 

Act  III.  Morning  dress.  Morning  coat  (Act  I), 
fancy  waistcoat,  gray  trousers. 

Brent. 

Act  I.  Lounge  suit.  Dark  gray  jacket,  waistcoat, 
trousers. 

Act  II.  Lounge  suit.  Dark  gray  jacket,  waistcoat, 
trousers. 

Act     II.  Scene  II.     Motor  overcoat,  cap,  gloves. 

Jarvic. 

Act  I.  Butler's  dress,  (Morning).  Dress  coat, 
high  waistcoat,  gray  trousers. 

Act  II.  Butler's  dress,  (Evening).  Dress  coat, 
low  waistcoat,  black  trousers. 

Act  II.  Scene  II.  Flannel  dressing-gown,  slip- 
pers. 

Act  III.  Same  as  Act  I. 

Peg. 

Act      I.  Blue  serge  costume,  hat,  stockings,  shoes. 

Act      I.  Pilue  silk  dress,  lace  bottom. 


PE€  O'  MY  HEART  139 

Act    IL  Full  evening  dress,  cloak,  cap,  stockings, 

shoes 
Act  III.  Silk  morning  dress. 
Ethel. 

Act      I.  Morning  dress,  stockings,  shoes. 
Act     II.  Scene  I.    Evening  dress,  stockings,  shoes. 
Act     II.  Scene   II.     Going-away   frock,  tiger-skin 

cloak,  velvet  hat,  stockings,  shoes. 
Act  III.  Morning  dress,  stockings,  shoes. 
Mrs.  Chichester. 

Act      I.  Morning  dress,  stockings,  shoes. 
Act    II.  Scene  I.     Evening  dress,  stockings,  shoes. 
Act    II,  Scene    II.      Dressing-wrapper,   lace   cap, 

stockings,  shoes. 
Act  III.  Alorning  dress,  stockings,  shoes. 
Bennett. 

Act      I.  Maid's  black  dress,  cap,  apron. 
Act    IL  Maid's  black  dress,  cap,  apron. 

DRESSES  FOR  LADY  UNDERSTUDIES. 


140  ,  PEG  O'  MY  HEART 


MUSIC 

"  Temple  of  Friendship"'  is  sung  to  the  music  of 
**  The  Little  Red  Lark  '\ 

"  Mollie  Brannigan  "'  and  the  "  Valse  Mauve  " 
used  in  the  Second  Act  are  pubhshed 

All   the   songs   mentioned   above  may  be  procured 
through  any  music  dealer 


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